Earth Shake
by robspace54
Summary: Louisa Glasson wakes up after a weird dream - one that shakes her world.
1. Chapter 1

Earth Shake

by robspace54

**The characters, places and situations of **_**Doc Martin,**_** are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story places no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.**

Martin pointed out a farm across the bay and started telling me about an old gent who lived over there, or used to. I guess he'd met him as a boy. The man had trained a greenfinch that would sit on his finger and sing. From the soft and tender way he spoke, I could tell it really touched him. Dear Martin, dear Doc Martin; not half as weird as he seemed.

The man was an entire set of contradictions, gruff, yet caring about the medical needs of the village, lonely, yet clearly yearning for companionship and smart – so, so smart – yet so bloody dense about the simplest of things; like affection.

He spoke about the greenfinch some more and then he reached over and stroked my cheek, rubbed my ear, and cupped the side of my face. His hand was warm, and soft, and it made me feel – rather nice, if I do say so. He looked down at my lips, I think, and then up to my eyes. I wanted to tell him how lovely the bird story was, and even more, for the picnic lunch was wonderful, and I was quite surprised that he even brought a chilled sparkling wine. It was all perfect, so very perfect. It had gone far better than I imagined it might, this picnic overlooking the bay.

The sun was bright, the air was breezy yet enjoyable, and finally, finally and at _last_ we were making progress, Martin and me. The lunch was superb, and he did sip a little, while I drank three glasses from a crystal flute. I hoped he'd not think I was a lush for I did drink a bit. Not that much really and not too often. There were a few Monday mornings I have had to pry myself out of bed, tongue feeling all furry and thick, and the kids in my class might wonder why I'd give them a labyrinth puzzle to work on – _quietly_ – while my head throbbed as Paracetamol struggled to render some aid.

The ground started to shake just then, and earth at the cliff slipped apart, with a large crack driving straight towards us. The wine flutes wobbled and clinked together in an odd musical counterpoint to the violence racing our way. We started, Martin dropped his hand and we looked dumbfounded as this big crack thing opened up and raced towards us.

We jumped to our feet and the ground opened between us and I started falling into the crack. "Aiii! Help me! AIIII!" I plunged down into the chasm, screaming my lungs out.

A strong and large hand grabbed mine and stopped my fall; saved me really. I looked up in shock at Martin while dirt and turf showered downward. "Martin," I said both in astonishment and relief. Yes relief for he'd saved me; saved me from God knows what was down there in the depths.

"I've got yah, I've got yah, you filthy stinking dog!" Martin said. "Give it. Give _it_ to me. Come on!"

Huh? What did he say? I would, I would, oh God I would! If only he'd just not call me a _dog_.

I licked my lips and was willing to give, or do, anything for the man, if only he'd not call me names. Names – bad names I knew far too well. Mum and Dad weren't all that good as married couple, or as parents, and it did put me off of relationships for quite a while. Oh there were boys, boys that would not care or mind that my mum had run off with a Spanish lover and my dad was half in and half out of jail due to some scam or other.

Villagers can be cruel, not the adults really, but school mates were less than kind. Dog, castoff, orphan, useless - you name it – I'd heard them all. Some would give some care to me, but there was always the sense of shame and deprivation that hovered about. Took me years to be shed of it; most of it.

Martin's hand held onto mine securely and I was staring up at his face, a face which seemed not straining at all under the weight of my not quite ten and a half stone. I liked that in a man, a man who was capable of some amount of strength; not a body builder but a quiet strength. I liked that in his character as well. He clearly did not give a hoot what the village or anybody thought of him. He seemed secure in his own skin, unlike me, for I worried about everything. And here he was fallen to Portwenn, career in tatters, yet he saved my eyesight despite all my doubts about how a high-and-mighty London surgeon would fare in Cornwall. I was the first of his patients, really. Then he diagnosed Roger Fenn's throat nodules and carried on, facing prejudice and suspicion, all the while holding in the secret of his fear of blood. Fancy a doctor afraid of blood? Well he sorted my eye, and Roger, and a hell of lot of others, and saved Peter Cronk too! Blood thing be damned!

"Come on, just give it to me!" his voice boomed down into the rift. "Give it!"

Give it? My lord, if he'd haul me out of this hole in the ground, I'd give him anything – _anything_ he _wanted_ – or _needed_!

So Louisa, what did you want? Um, I wanted to peel open that shirt and run my hands down his broad chest and back, push him back on the grass and kiss…

"Come on! Give it!" he shouted at me once more.

At least he wasn't screaming into my face about bad breath! But the dog thing was uncalled for! I shook my head for I was not where I seemed to be. On my back, under the duvet, staring at the ceiling. What in hell?

Martin's strident voice was coming into the room from the window? I sprang out of bed and sped over there.

"Come on. Just give it to me! Martin shouted some more. "Drop it! Give it to me! Give it to me! Let go!"

I peered around the drapes and there was Martin playing tug-of-war with the shaggy and mangy mutt that has been pestering him for the past year.

Martin finally managed to withdraw a stethoscope from the dog's mouth, as he glanced up at my bedroom window quite ashamedly, and rapidly wiping down the thing with his handkerchief stomped off. I knew how paranoid Martin was about dogs and the germs he claimed they carried. He'd most likely bin the instrument and buy another!

Had he been lurking outside my house? Hmm. I bit my lip. Well that would be rather interesting, I thought. I slumped back against the wall, felling my heart thumping like mad and various parts of me were tingling from the dream. Yes, it was a dream, right?

"Lord. And Martin, I'm no dog, not by a long shot."

I peeped outside again and there was his broad back, gray suit clad as always, marching away like he was on parade, those brilliantly polished black shoes flashing on the pavement.

"Martin – you silly man," I sighed, running my hand through my tangled hair. "Some might call you a tosser, but…" I bit my lip again. "I do like you, sort of."

Now if only my hair had been tangled from the attentions of a certain doctor. I looked at my bed. It was a nice bed, I enjoyed it; it was warm and the matrasses not too lumpy, but there was that bad spring on the side by the wall. A fine sturdy frame, one that would easily hold up two, if needed…

I stole a look again and Martin was now at the top of the hill, marching away like mad. Just then, right that very moment, he glanced back and I caught his eye. From the way he jumped he must have seen me looking. He ducked his close cropped head, squared his shoulders, and marched from my sight.

"Martin," I sighed, resting my head on my arms on the window sill. "Martin."

"Louisa?" came a cry from out on the street.

I looked up and it was Mrs. Clibb, my closest busy-body from across the street. "Oh, hi," I said casually or tried to. "Fine morning!" I crossed arms across the thin vest of my pyjamas, feeling my chest tighten in the cool air. No sense giving her the wrong idea… about anything.

"Did you see Doc Martin out here a playin' with that grimy dog? The man must be daft!" She sniffed. "The tosser woke me! What's wrong with the man?"

"No, no, I didn't. Bye then!"

I closed the drapes and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. That was one helluva weird dream! The clock showed I was late arising. Damn! I rushed into the loo and started my Monday routine. What was all that about a picnic, and wine, and Martin, and an earthquake I wondered.

It may have been a dream, but it sure shook me up for that whole morning all I could think of was the dream-Martin holding onto my hand.


	2. Chapter 2

After the Kiss

I was in the pharmacy buying some things I needed when Martin showed up. To be polite I greeted him.

"Hello, uhm," he answered. "Uhm, glad I bumped into you. I've been meaning to."

"Considering we live in the same village, it is _quite_ impressive if you hadn't managed to bump into me before now." My voice came out icy, instead of what I might have said.

"Yes, well," he stammered, which I tried to ignore. His comment about bad breath stung; stung far more than expected. "I just wanted to say…"

Then Mrs. Tishell popped up from behind the counter and whatever more he might have said got cut off. "Sorry, sorry Louisa. I knew they were back here. Oh hello Doctor Ellingham."

Then I went off on Martin. "You were _so_ _rude_! I cannot believe that you think it's acceptable to… to… _kiss_ me, and then imply that _I_ had a _problem_. We were both up all night… drinking hospital coffee… and having kittens over Peter's accident and then you, YOU, start BANGING ON about dental hygiene!"

Mrs. T held the mouthwash I was buying and I fished out a tenner to pay. "And frankly, if _that_ was an apology it was pretty much RUBBISH!" I stomped out.

In the taxi ride home from hospital after the horrible event that cost Peter Cronk his spleen I had wanted to kiss Martin (after all he did save Peter's life) and I think he wanted to kiss me. I'd felt his hand next to mine pressed flat on the seat tense and motionless. I had to grab his hand and in a flash there we were snogging in the back, God knows what the driver thought!

He was a good kisser and that was nice for a mere moment. Then _he_ spoiled it by asking if I had a regular method of dental hygiene! Ooooh. That bastard! I still bristled about it_. _

_So then, Louisa_, said a voice in my head, _why did you buy three bottles of Listerine?_

Good question.

It was only when I got home after my blowup did I realize I'd forgotten my change. I slammed the door behind me, practically threw the mouthwash bottles in the sink cabinet, and plopped onto my bed.

"Damn you, Martin Ellingham! Oooh!" I buried my face in the pillow. "Damn it," I muttered. "Tosser is right."

I rolled over and stared at the ceiling. Figures that my dream-Martin was sooo much nicer than the real one. I sat up and pushed my hair back, still seething over our encounter.

Speaking of encounters, when I literally bumped into Danny Steel on the street later (I hadn't seen him in for donkey's years) it seemed like old home week. His mum hadn't been well lately so he'd come down to sort her. Good old Danny, always nice to see an old friend. I think he'd have liked to be more than just friends years back, but that, erh, he wasn't what or who I wanted. Long story, that.

We were school chums, nothing more, or so I thought. Little did I know that Danny was harboring ideas of his own, but I'll come back to that later.

So school went on that week and so forth. Danny's mum had been addled lately and Martin got that sorted, as poof, she was right as rain. Her mental faculties snapped back and she decided to move into High Trees, the rest home out by the golf course. Good for her.

His mum, Muriel, is a sweet old thing. Muriel and Martin's Aunt Joan would give me sweets, even bought me a dress of two back in the old days – the bad old days. Those were the days I came home to a cold and empty house with Mum gone south, and dad was always out or nearly so. Beans on toast was the meal of the day then or a boiled egg with more toast. I sighed and pushed _those_ memories away.

When Danny popped by after his mum turned out to be healthy, I invited him to dinner. Stepping out of the grocery I literally ran into Martin for it was a very small village. We bent down to get the bags I'd dropped.

"Fancy wine," he said pointing to the bottle I held.

"Yes… I fancied it. I fancied an old friend, I _mean_ I'm having an old friend over for dinner." So…" I looked at Martin, his considerable height stiff and straight and words failed. I didn't want to be angry with the man, I wanted… I wanted to apologize, I suppose, for my outburst. Bygones be bygones and just maybe…

"Louisa," he said softly. "I…"

"Come on you!" Danny burst out of the shop. "Doc."

Martin stiffened. "Danny."

Danny smiled at me. "I could eat a horse, come on."

"Well, erh, good night," the doctor said and slipped through us.

"Night then," I said wistfully staring at him as he went.

Danny snaked an arm out to pull me close and I brushed him off with a pointed elbow, a nudge, and a swing of my handbag. My head automatically turned back to watch Martin as he marched away.

There he went; off all alone. Was he going to say something before Danny came onto the street? I think so, I think he was going to speak. He had the same look about the eyes in the pharmacy – sort of crinkled up – and as bad as his earlier effort was… well, we shall see.

Dinner with Danny was fun, albeit, more fun for him, I think, as he chatted away and I kept thinking about Martin; for there was something about the man that I could not shake. Danny went chatting on about the old gang, Susan, Tim, Julie, all the rest, and where they ended up. I'd lost track of some, but safe to say most were as far away from Portwenn as they could get. So many kids literally ran from the village, but not me. This was home; this was _my_ place.

Danny joked and smiled, told old stories, talked about his work in London, and made me laugh. I sipped at the wine and shared a few tales of my own, nothing bad, just amusing.

Danny started yawning. "Time to head out. I'm staying out at mum's place. If she's going to live at High Trees, she'll have to sell it. I can fix it up. It's not in bad shape, but needs some paint and such and the floors are rubbish, but good solid oak underneath."

"That is a lovely view there, isn't it? Over the sea." I said. "She always let you have the nicest get togethers, didn't she? Out on your terrace."

He laughed. "Remember the time that Charlie got drunk and tried to walk the length of the wall with the ocean just a hundred feet down! One wrong move… ah, never mind. It's late." He stretched. "I, uhm, sensed some… erh, thing… between you and the Doc."

"No, no." I shook my head. "Nothing there, really." One ambulance ride, one kiss, and one snarky comment. "Not at all."

"Oh?" Danny smiled. "Okay."

"Okay what?"

He stood and checked his watch. "Better be off."

"Yeah." I sat there and sipped at the last of the wine. "So how'd you find the village?"

Danny stopped by the door. "Some things haven't changed at all," he said almost mysteriously. "G'night, Lou."

He let himself out and I finished the grape. This was a good bottle, maybe too good. I thought back to Martin, all alone on the street, while I escorted my old chum up to the house. I drained the glass and turned up my nose at the dirty dishes on the counter. "Tomorrow."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Like Parents

I caught up with Mr. Sands in the play yard next morn and casually asked how the search for the new Head Teacher was going. He said there were three in the running; me, and two outsiders. Mr. Sands didn't give me better than three to one odds, which did not make me feel any better.

During morning playtime Martin showed up and practically sprawled arse over teakettle on top of one of the boys who was bent down drawing with chalk on the tarmac. That's when I heard that Martin didn't want to be a school governor. I was flabbergasted! I implored him to stay on so we could get this settled, and that was for the good of the school, and not my nerves. He grudgingly agreed to stay on, but I could tell he really didn't want to do it.

I thanked him and that's when he said, "Don't expect any favors though," in his gruff way.

"Course not," I said and without another word he turned and dashed away, which was so typical.

I thought that might be it for my daily Martin encounters, but that evening he showed up at my door with a little gift. Martin and Peter Cronk stood there, both looking rather forlorn. Peter's mum got her hand badly burned in her fryer and that was awful. The whole village was shocked about it especially since she had to spend some time in hospital.

Martin cleared his throat. "Peter was rather hoping he could stay with you."

I was not keen and burst out about the schoolwork I had to do, and prepping for the interview at the school. Martin dumped the kid on me and fled, which he seemed to be very good at. Seems I would be a foster mum anyway.

"Right, well, then," I sighed, "nice to see you." Peter moped inside and to cover my discomfort I started fixing some tea. After we ate Peter had finished all his school work and he was now staring at me, clearly bored to tears.

"Can I watch TV?"

"Peter I have _loads_ to do and I need to concentrate, just…" Then I said some mean things to him and rapidly had to make up to the boy. Was this was parents went through all the time? I managed to send him up to the spare room to bed, or so I thought. I put my head back into the reading about school admin, the proper student to teacher ratios of large and small schools, and reviewed proposed budgets. The hours dragged on and I thought no more of my lodger.

Sometime later the phone rang. "Hello?" I answered.

It was Martin and he was just this side of rude once more. "Have you lost something?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Peter Cronk."

"What?" I screeched and ran toward the stairs looking upward.

"He says you threw him out."

"Ahm… it was the _room_, not the _house_! I needed a bit of quiet, that's all! I told him I've got a lot of reading to do, Martin." Lord! That kid!

"Well finish your reading and come get him."

"It's _very_ late. Couldn't you let him stay there with you? Could you?" I wheedled.

"No! I'm sorry, I'm simply not equipped," he said emphatically.

Not equipped. So because I'm a woman, I know how to deal with pre-teens?

"Peter? Peter!" Martin yelled. "Oh, God. He's asleep now."

I smiled at the phone in satisfaction. "Well! In that case we'd better not disturb him! G'night." I rung off and exhaled mightily. Serves him right! But, poor Peter, trapped across the harbor with Martin. I hope Peter stayed well asleep and out of the doc's way for he could be a bear when his blood was up.

The next morning there was quite a scuffle in the school yard. Bobby Richards and Timmy Smith were pounding on each other. The usual boy thing I thought, but they were screaming about _spots_ and _pox_. I dealt with the boys and there was Martin, all buttoned up and stiff, per usual, as he yelled my name. "Louisa!"

"Can you call me Miss Glasson in front of the kids?" I hissed.

He bristled back. "I gave _clear_ instructions that the impetigo case should stay at home."

I rolled my eyes at his rudeness. "Bobby Richards – the impetigo case – his mother works. Now… it might have escaped _your_ attention but for a lot of people in Portwenn _work_ is an economic necessity." Really, Martin? You don't get it?

He got crosser. "Well _this_ is a medical necessity and unless the case is _isolated_ the disease spreads! Is that clear?" He practically spat in my face.

"_Yes_, Doctor," I said petulantly. I tried to bow my head but my neck doesn't go that way when I get my back up.

"So you'll send the boy home?"

"I _said_ I would _deal_ with the situation straight away." I bit my words off.

"Thank you," he said looking like he'd bite my head off straight back. Then whoosh, he was gone in a flash. I swear the man must have trained as a magician. Perhaps we should call him Martin _Houdini_ Ellingham.

And there in his wake, stood poor Peter Cronk, rather lost looking.

"Oh, Peter, look, I am sorry about last night."

"Yeah," the kid mumbled back.

"Oh Peter, it's not like you're _completely_ without fault. You can't just take off in the night without talking to anyone." I pointed him to the door. "Right _Petey? _I tousled his hair. He grinned and laughed so another school day started.

The rest of the day went on, after I set up Bobby and a spare teacher in a classroom by himself, _suitably_ quarantined. That should take of Martin the Magician, or so I hoped.

After I ate that night I went up the hill to see how Peter was doing at Martin's and to be honest I was curious how things might be between us after our morning battle. He didn't seem any odder than usual when he let me so I pried the info from him that Mrs. Cronk was doing better and might he home in a couple of days.

"And Peter?" I asked.

"He's uhm, fine." Martin turned back to washing the dishes.

So strange to see a man in a suit and apron doing washing up. I was always amazed how neat and clean his cottage was. Here was a man who could take care of himself. I thought about my usually messy house and blushed. "Funny how he looks up to you, isn't it?" I told him.

"Probably because I don't have a criminal record," he sniffed, which was a very odd thing to say.

To my horror when I peeped into the front room, Peter was watching some gore fest video on the telly, with a scantily clad buxom blonde in the center of it! "Martin!" I yelled and then turned back to Peter. "Turn it off!"

"But" the kid said sadly, "they're just about to eat the virgin's eyeballs."

"Turn it off!" I switched the thing off and shifted my considerable anger onto our village doctor. "_Martin!_"

Martin huffed defensively. "_He_ told me it was educational."

"Yes! And he's just said the words '_virgin's eyeballs_.'" Was the man totally daft?

Martin looked strangely at me. "That bad?"

"Look, you can't just…" Peter was hanging on every word. "Peter!" He made himself scarce. "Now," I whispered, "Martin, you think we can talk about this? Sensibly?"

He inclined his head. "Tea then."

I stepped into his front room, turned off the DVD player and switched the telly back on. "Peter, how about…" I switched channels quickly. "There," I said when I saw a seascape. "That should hold you."

Martin set out two cups and saucers, gravely played mother, and then we sat awkwardly across from each other. It seemed very domestic as the two of us sat there, almost like parents, while Peter morosely watched a _safe_ and _boring_ show about North Sea oil production.

"You see Martin, ten-year-olds don't always know what's best for them," I whispered.

"_I did_," Martin said and set his cup down firmly. There was something defensive about the way he spoke.

His comment almost took my breath away. "Yes… but erm, you're a bit _different_ than the rest of us." The truth hurt and I could see it.

His large ears tipped as he cocked his head quizzically, his eyes looked pained.

I went on. "I'm not saying that there's anything _wrong_ that. And I quite like you the way you are." I watched carefully as he digested that. It was the truth, what I said. This was the man who'd stuck his gloved hand inside Peter Cronk in a brilliant example of ambulance surgery, and with blood spurting everywhere and a river of sweat on his face, saved the boy's life. There was something so special about a man who could do that. And to be honest I quite liked telling him that for only Doctor Martin Ellingham could have pulled that rabbit out of the hat.

"Do you?" he said hopefully.

Martin sat there with his sad looking eyes and I recalled the two of us in the back of the taxi. His lips were thick but soft and those ears a bit sticky-out… but right then I felt there were actual signs there was a real human being inside that cast iron suit across from me.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Gone Daft

I went on. "Yes. And about this morning, I do listen to what you say. And there is nothing more important t me than the kid's welfare. There's no way I'd do anything to put their health at risk." There we were talking, just talking, as intelligent and reasonable people. It felt good to be able to just talk.

But then he said, "Why are you like this?"

"What?"

"Like this. Not anything to do with Friday is it?

"Friday?" I had no idea what he was going on about.

"You're interview. You will, Louisa, have my _full_ support, but only if you are the best candidate for the job."

My heart fell. "Why do you always do this?"

"What?"

His attitude and words creeped me out. I shook my head, stood up and left the rude bugger sitting there by himself. Oooh that man!

I seethed in anger all the way home; and also in some disappointment. Every time I think the man is… more than rubbish… he drops the boom on me! I opened a bottle of red wine and was about to pour a glass but stopped myself. I turned in the general direction of this surgery and hissed, "Martin Bloody Ellingham, I cannot believe that you would ever think that I would try to butter you up for my own benefit!"

The cork went back into the bottle and I calmly pulled out my school work and reviewed all the good things that I thought about Portwenn Elementary. After a while I could think rationally and then I got back into teacher mode, but in the back of my mind was Martin. Did he always intend to be so mean? Come on!

Late that night and in bed I could not but help compare the Martin of the earthquake dream and the one in the flesh. "Louisa, you've gone daft!" I laughed out loud. "There is _no_ comparison between the two of them!" I had quite a giggle over that. Finally I calmed down and tried to sleep, but all the bits of the day kept swirling.

After the wordless way I'd left him the night before, I figured Martin would get the message and stay well away from me, but _no_. At midday he showed up at the school. "You just can't stay away from me, can you?" I teased.

His reply was harsh. "You allowed _infected_ children into the school. Meaning that three more of your pupils have impetigo. You think you can ignore my advice?"

I was eating lunch or trying to and the damn sandwich was stuck right to the top of my mouth. "Martin, please…"

"What would happen if everyone in Portwenn ignored medical advice? Disease would rampage, bodies will pile up in the streets awaiting burial, rats scrabbling through cottages." His face had grown a shade to match his tie with his strident tone.

"Martin, I think you should just leave this to me…"

"In years to come when archeologists unearth the ruins of Portwenn, someone will ask _'How did this unspeakable disaster occur?'_ How? Because Miss Glasson _said_!"

That's when I turned my full fury on him. "I arranged for the sick kids to be taught in separate classrooms, well away from everyone else! No one has swapped books, shared towels or chewing gum, or done anything they are not supposed to do!"

"Well, it's NOT WORKING for there are THREE MORE cases!"

"And that is NOT MY fault!" The row had become a continuation of last night. "Or the fault of this school! I s that CLEAR?"

"_Very_ clear," he sneered.

He walked away and I was half tempted to throw my water bottle at his head! Rude, ungrateful, self-centered…

I looked at the kids on the play yard who were looked at me with wide eyes. "Ok… ok, it's just a discussion," I told them slowly. "Grownup stuff…" I smiled half-heartedly. I looked at my watch. "Oh! Playtime is over," I said to a chorus of groans. "In you go."

I could understand that he was upset over the medical issues, but perhaps he was also so cross since Elaine Denham had left. She'd blasted off to Italy I heard in the tow of her most recent boyfriend.

In her absence she had roped in her cousin Pauline Lamb to mind surgery clerkship. Of course considering he'd basically inherited Elaine from the late Dr. Sim it was only natural that he actually might like to hire his _own_ receptionist.

I herded the kids inside and watched the retreating head of Martin. From his marching stride and stiff neck it was pretty damn obvious he was upset - very.

"You're not the only one who's upset, my dear Doctor," I muttered.

"Miss Glasson? Did Doc Martin make you mad?" asked one of the kids in her tiny voice.

Out of the mouths of babes. "No Katie," I lied and cleared my throat. "Back to class, now."

Of course he had made me mad. That night I got home early, locked up the wine, bolted some leftovers, and set to work again, until my head was bursting with ideas, facts, and anxiety. It was only after midnight did I get into bed and settled and even then my mind was whirling.

I must have fallen asleep for I started to relive the dream about the earth splitting open. Just like the first we were having a lovely picnic, then the earth split open and I fell into the hole. This time though, Martin stood there with arms crossed with a satisfied smirk and watched me fall and fall…

I yelled in terror all the way down, finally landing on a pile of decayed and rotting corpses. I screamed and woke up to the blaring of the alarm! "God! Oh my God! It's just like Martin said would happen! We did all die!"

I shook myself in revulsion, pried myself from bed and went to the loo. "Come on Louisa, get a grip!" I muttered. "Daft. Totally."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Clarity

Right. Friday. The interview was to start after lunch. I hoped I was ready, but if not… well, I did know the school and the village and surely that would give me a leg up on the competition. I kept that thought in my head and prayed for a quiet morning, but I hadn't counted on my 'step child' Peter Cronk to be running about terrorizing the other kids. He feinted and waved his infected hands, while the rest huddled like sheep beset by a wild dog.

"Peter! Stop it! You know you're not supposed to be in here!" for he too had the mysterious disease that now afflicted nine students.

"Flesh eating bug!" Peter yelled in glee.

"No you haven't!"

"Yes I have! It's called," he reeled off some Latin words. "Doctor Martin says it's a rare flesh-eating organism!"

"I don't care what it's called - get out!" I took his arm and frog marched him into the hall. "One more time Peter Cronk I will throttle you and feed your body to the seagulls! Now stay out!"

Oh God. There was Mr. Sands, Stu McKenzie, Melba Collins, and Tim Barton, plus Martin, the whole Board of Governors.

"Miss Glasson," Mr. Sand said, "one of our candidates!"

"Oh, hello, uhm…" My voice went away and I tried to smile. That's torn it. Goodbye new job and any more pay. Hell. I smiled and tried to stay cheery looking, but the look Martin gave me was one of disdain or worse.

The Governors went into the gymnasium with Mr. Sands, who gave me a cheery little wave. Like that would excuse me for yelling at a student. I reversed course and rested my head against the wall. "Louisa, you've torn it now. Likely be sacked."

Trish Soames peeped out of her classroom. "Louisa, are you alright?"

"Oh yeah. Sure."

"Well, you don't look so sure," she said nervously. "But nothing ventured."

"Right."

The other candidates were down the way and I nervously approached. "Hi."

The woman was named Celia Bracken and the man was Glen Stoddard. Both were very nervous.

"Well, this is Portwenn." I grinned. "Such as it is."

The man nodded as he bit on a fingernail, while he looked at a spot well above my head. "Small."

The woman said, "Yes. Rather like my old school in Tavistock."

"I was up in Bristol," Glen said and then he shuffled some papers on his lap. "Sorry, better… Bit of studying never hurts, right?'

Celia twisted her hands together in obvious dread. "Oh yes…" she squeaked.

"All a bit awkward, isn't it? I mean… here you are in _my_ school, interviewing for Head Teacher and I've been here for _years_." That came out oddly. "But, I mean, perfectly fine to have, erh, others, come in," I followed to cover the strained silence.

I sighed and clamped my lips together. They took Mrs. Bracken first and then Mr. Stoddard. Then it was my turn on stage. It was every bit as strange as I feared. Sands sat at the back, while Mr. Barton, Mr. McKenzie, Mrs. Collins, and Martin were shoehorned up against a table that was too short.

My mouth was dry, and I hemmed and hawed, dancing all over on some bits. It was going somewhat okay, I thought but then the matter of the sick kids came up. Martin sat there like the Lord High Inquisitor himself and I feared that he'd scuttle me then and there. But he actually kept his mouth shut mostly which quite surprised me.

"So, if a doctor gave you some medical advice, you wouldn't ignore him?" McKenzie bored in to me.

That was the sticking point, just there.

He went on. "This impetigo or zoonosis. We understand that you ignored medical advice and brought the sick kids into school - encouraged it."

"Uhm, but now that I know what it is, I can treat it with penicillin," Martin piped up and he made it sound almost trivial. Yet he'd practically chomped my head off yesterday.

Mr. Sands went on about risk to the kids.

My face flushed and climbed onto my soapbox. "Right. Some parents _have_ to work. They can't keep their kids at home or pay someone to watch them, if you've got the money. Now, unlike _some_ people, _I understand_ the reality of life in this village. I know which parents need help and what sort of help they need and how to give it! And I'd never put _any_ child at the risk of infection. We took special precautions; separate classroom, hired a teacher's assistant to be with them, separate playtimes, the lot. Every child was segregated. They were taught away from the others in a separate room, separate playtimes, and as I told Doctor Ellingham there was no sharing of books, pens, papers, nothing! Now we provided a service to the kids _and_ the parents, and the _community_ and WE followed MEDICAL advice to the letter."

The four of them sat grimly, taking notes, while Mr. Sands sat at the back wall and gave me a thumbs-up. That steadied me somewhat. "Is… erhm, is there anything else, you which to ask me about?"

Mr. Barton glanced down the table. "Anything? No? Well Miss Glasson, Louisa, thank you for giving us the opportunity. Now, if you would… ahem."

I stood, gathered my notes and smoothed my skirt. "Thanks - thanks for the interview." My smile was a bit forced, but I tried.

"Thank you, Louisa," Mr. Sands said. "The Board will now deliberate." He walked with me to the door. "Good show, that," he whispered.

"Thanks."

Out in the hall Mr. Stoddard had the same disaffected gaze and Mrs. Bracken sat there looking troubled. I sighed and felt the sweat under my arms start to dry. Damn, I thought. Had to fly off the handle. Crap! I fully expected Martin to flay me alive in there but he didn't. But good lord some of my answers were such rubbish. After this I'd be lucky to have a job at all.

Peter Cronk came over, as the infected kids had been asked to stay until Martin could treat them. "Miss Glasson, how did it go?"

"Oh, I don't know."

"No worries, miss. You always do fine. And the skin infection came from that stray dog that hangs around the surgery and the disease only comes from animals. We all caught it from the dog."

Mr. McKenzie came out. "Miss Glasson? Come in please."

I started into the gym and Martin was right in my face. "Whether I've got this job or not I'll never forgive you for stitching me up like that!" I hissed at him.

"I didn't stitch you up," he said.

"Then who told them I ignored your advice if it wasn't you?"

"I'd be perfectly entitled to tell them that…"

"Because you never listen! And now Peter tells me that the skin infection came from your bloody dog!" I left him standing there.

"Miss Glasson?" McKenzie urged me on.

"Yes, coming." I left him standing there stewing. Well what I was told came as quite a surprise.

I found Martin in the first aid nook injecting the infected kids. He'd just stuck the last kid and was putting away his things. He appraised me coolly. "Congratulations."

"I thought I was the last person you'd want running this school."

"No, you were the most suitable candidate - by far."

"Thank you," I told him and I meant it.

"You're welcome."

"I'm sorry, if I misunderstood back there."

"Easily done," he said levelly.

Here goes, I thought. "I'm having a drink tonight at the Pub if you fancy it."

"Thank you," he said, and it sounded genuine.

"Right," I turned to dash off, but had to glance back. There he stood all stiff and formal but we'd actually communicated, civilly. Might it be start?

Down on the Platt a little crowd had gathered. Bert Large was the first to offer a toast. "To our new Head Mistress, Miss G!"

Glasses clinked, people cheered, and it was the start of a nice night.

"Cheers," said Mr. Sand as he touched my beer pint. "I knew you'd do it!"

"Bit of rocky start, though, wasn't it?" I laughed. I scanned the little crowd, which was expected to grow. Someone was missing and sure enough when I looked up to Martin's cottage there he stood, hands gloved holding something.

I smiled up at him and I hoped he could see it. He didn't wave, only nodded briefly. But I was learning that was his way, at least when he wasn't yelling or hectoring. I sighed staring up at the man, while Pauline flirted with Al Large.

We were all down here, and way up there Martin stood like a knight guarding the battlements, but from what? But just maybe, what he was guarding was whatever he hid under that armor he seemed to wear.

I shook my head and turned away and could have sworn I heard him shout up there. I looked back but he was gone and a dog was scurrying away. I smiled - Martin Ellingham, man of mystery - but not a lover of dogs, that much was clear.


	6. Chapter 6

Nose and Eye

So I had the Head Mistress spot at least, and that was good, and the staff all supported me in that change. I was stood to any number of pints or glasses of wine, so much so that I actually had to have a little talk with myself.

_Louisa_, the voice asked, _what will the village think if the new Head Mistress of Portwenn Primary has to be trundled home each night in a wheelbarrow? I mean really._

It hadn't got that bad actually, but my worrywart head did tend to think in such channels. And then there was the other thing. Martin and I left things on a semi even keel at the school; although I was quite ticked off in the hallway. But then there was the nasopharyngeal _issue_.

Mark Mylow's sister Sandra had moved to the village and set herself up as a homeopathic health advisor or some such. So I wondered if Listerine might be helping or was there something better?

Thusly I found myself exhaling open-mouthed into Sandra's face while she inhaled delicately.

She assured me that she didn't think there was anything wrong at all, at least with my breath.

"Are you sure? It's just that some people, uhm… it was a doctor actually…"

"This wouldn't be our friendly local doc, would it?" Sandra sneered.

I looked at her nervously. "Well, they said that I have a certain… tang… to my breath."

Sandra blinked her brown eyes at me calmly. "Actually, some lot have a faulty smelling apparatus which means they falsely accuse others of bad breath or even body odor."

"Really?" Who knew? "That's interesting. Yeah, that would make sense. Because he does have some physical quirks." Should I tell this woman more? "I don't know if you have heard but our new doctor has a blood phobia. Can't stand the sight of it."

"No! A blood phobia?" Sandra burst out laughing. "That's great!" she went on chuckling.

"But he is really a very, very good doctor."

"As long as there aren't any cuts or scrapes involved, I imagine! Ha-hah!"

In spite of myself I laughed along with her. It _was_ true that Martin's blood phobia was funny. Considering that we have a local Ranger who imagines his best friend is a six-foot tall invisible squirrel, it goes to reason the village would have also have a doctor who is affected by blood.

"Now," Sandra said, "about your _other_ complaint," she held a small bottle towards me, "these should do the trick."

"Thanks. You've been so helpful," I told her palming the bottle, and OMG there was Martin looking at us! How much did he hear? "Martin," I said his name with caution and dismay.

"Louisa," he said back with a tiny sneer.

"I hope your ears aren't burning," Sandra told him harshly, and I thought that was uncalled for.

"Uhm, can I settle up with you later?" I asked softly for I just wanted out of there.

"Later. At the pub."

I elbowed my way past Martin quickly and went straight downstairs, stopping to talk to Mark, who was clearly not very happy to have his sister up in the spare room. "Mark, how are things?"

"Fine, Louiser. Fine." He nodded at the brown bottle I held. "See you've been consulting with the practitioner." He sighed sitting at his policemen's desk.

"Yes." I tucked the bottle into my handbag and toddled to the door when I heard angry voices above. "There they go."

"Who can blame the Doc?" Mylow whispered. "I heard all _that_ going on upstairs."

"Oh… dear." I grimaced at what I heard. "Ugly."

"Mark my words Miss G, this will get a lot worse before it gets better," he told me, as I scurried to the street.

It was clear that Sandra Mylow considered herself to be in competition with Martin and Mark was right I suppose; this dustup might not end well.

Later I was in the pub and was just asking for a packet of crisps to go, when Martin walked up to me. Better apologize. "Martin," I said to him, "about this morning…"

"How was your visit to the snake charmer?" he said judgmentally.

"It's pretty clear to me you've closed your mind to alternative medicine, but it can be effective sometimes."

"Frequently, yes. Just unfortunately for my patient it turned into a lottery. All bad luck."

"Maybe you have to accept that they _are_ _adults_, Martin, and they can make decisions for themselves. And who knows, maybe _she_ could help you with your blood problem," I suggested half-heartedly.

"Doc!" Danny Steel yelled out. "Louisa."

"Hi," I squeaked.

Danny went on. "Mum told me she would treat me to dinner at the retirement home when I got back from London. So, uh, thought I'd fortify myself. Need a stiff drink before I go." Danny looked from me to Martin and back while Martin stood frozen. "They might care for the elderly, but they can't cook to save their lives," he laughed. "Lou, drink?"

"Yes, thanks."

"Doc?" Danny asked.

"No thank you. I just came to see Mark." Then his pointy shoes walked and off he went to Mark who stood at the record machine.

Danny propped an elbow on the bar and ordered two pints of bitter. "Now, how've things been while I've been gone? The usual den of intrigue and mystery in the Duchy of Portwenn? Any pirates landed lately?"

"You know; the usual." I caught Martin looking at me but he turned back to Mylow. Damn. Must we always dance about like feral cats?

"Heard you got a new job! Fab! I knew the good Lord would provide!" Danny said rubbing my shoulder. "Good one."

I ignored his fingers as he rubbed my shoulder blade. "Truth be told God had very little to do with it! It was luck and sweat and the other two candidates were… ahem," I saw Martin looking at me once more, so my hand stole up and smoothed my hair while twisting away from Danny's hand, "wanting."

"Lou, Lou. I knew you could do it!" He bent his head towards mine as I jerked up and took a pull on the pint. "Good bitter. I needed that."

Danny went on about London and some deal he was working on. I wasn't paying much attention to him, for my ears were pointed right at Martin. What was he discussing with Mark? I hoped he wasn't talking about me, at least not in a negative way.

In a bit Martin left without a word but I could almost feel a chill as he passed me and Danny at the bar.

Danny watched him leave. "Martin is a bit…"

"What? Don't _you_ go on as well."

"Professional." Danny smiled at me. "That's all, Lou." He drank his beer. "Best be off. Wish me luck."

"Bye, Danny. Say hi to your mum."

"Care to come?" he urged. "I'm sure they have plenty of over-baked chicken and mushy veg."

"No thanks. Have schoolwork."

"Yes. I bet you've got plenty to do with the new job. Keeps you up all hours." He smiled at me and sighed. "You are a sight for sore eyes, Lou."

I nodded and then Danny was gone. Mark Mylow pushed some buttons and a sappy love song came out of the speakers - all about lost loves and cold nights.

I abandoned my unfinished beer and trotted home. Dinner was leftover Tandoori chicken, a sad excuse for a salad I made with limp lettuce, and the bag of crisps.

I eyed my dubious repast. "Maybe, Louisa, you should have gone to dinner with Danny to High Trees." As I bit into the chicken, I wondered what Martin was having for dinner, all alone, just like me. I wiped at an eye that mysteriously dripped a tear.


	7. Chapter 7

Men

Lately I seemed to be having men problems, or at least massive understandings.

Firstly there was Danny Steel and his attitude. Danny breezed back into town all smiles and so full of energetic architect plans it quite set my teeth on edge at times, not to mention the hyper-religious spoutings from his mouth.

And then there was the other man, but I'll get to him in due course.

Danny Steel had, by taking on quite a lot of odd jobs, hard work and study, managed to get into good schools and built up an independent architecture practice. His humble beginnings, like mine, certainly made him value hard work and effort. When his mum had a health issue he'd tried to manage it long distance, but at the end arrived and stirred up our new doctor, or so I heard. Danny was not skimping at all when it came to his criticism of Doctor Ellingham when I heard his recap of the matter. When Martin determined that Muriel's health issue was related to dehydration, and was able to successfully treat her, Danny immediately flipped his opinion of Martin from scorn to praise, mostly.

Danny kept on saying how great things were for his business back in London, yet if that were true, why was he spending so much time in Portwenn? Still it was nice to talk about our school days, and when he met me on the street one afternoon, he filled me in on his on-air interview that morning with Carolyn Bosman on Radio Portwenn.

"You may have reached the pinnacle of career." I smiled at him, but he wasn't having it.

"In Portwenn?" he scoffed, "I don't think so."

I picked up the flat of flowers for the school growing patch and sped off. Danny tailed behind with the second tray and had to tap dance over what had just come from his mouth. "I mean, Louisa, sorry, I, I didn't mean… uhm, obviously your job… that's _fantastic_. You've done brilliantly."

But I was quite put out. He didn't like Portwenn anymore it seemed, and as for me the village suited me; always had. But to have him run down both our village and my job? My feet moved faster towards the school.

"I wasn't talking about _you_," he trailed off clearly sensing he'd stepped into it. He dogged me as we got onto the school playground. "Look, I don't want to sound arrogant, but, here I am a career architect on community radio talking about the merits of _sash bloody windows_!"

There he was going about his great job, yet I knew he was actually between contracts. Just maybe fancy pants building architect belonged here with the rest of the rubes? I turned away from him so swiftly I almost put my neck out.

Body language was wasted on the man for he kept talking. "And you know that Carolyn left me when we were on air, to go to the loo." He motioned with his hand like he was drinking from a bottle. "You _know_."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked crossly.

He was startled. "Oh, come on. Everybody knows. And her breath…"

I put down the flowers I was carrying. "Right. Just set them down and I'll sort them out tomorrow."

"Sayin' she just…"

I cut him off as I'd heard enough out of him. "_Bye_ Danny." I retreated into the school in a huff. He accuses my friend of being a drinker, and he ripped on my job, a job that I enjoyed very much - _thank you_ Danny Steel! I expected more of him.

I felt anger, and mostly disappointment about Danny Steel. He had been my first boyfriend a very long time back as well as villager and long time friend, but lately he seemed to have put himself on a pedestal. As for the boyfriend part it was all a long time back - a very long time. Snogging in the bushes was one thing and a couple of times we had gone to bed… I stopped that train of thought. "No Louisa! Don't go there!" The past Lou, the past is all gone and forgotten, mostly.

Trish Soames stopped me in the hall. "Louisa, you busy? I was thinking that… oh you'll think it's a bad idea… never mind." She retreated to her classroom.

"Tricia? Come on, speak," I urged her. "It's me Louisa. Same old Louisa," I chuckled with encouargment. "Go on."

"But…" the girl turned a troubled face, "you're the boss."

"Well, yes I am, but I'm still Louisa Glasson, right?"

"I… uhm, well; I wanted to propose a new Earth Science program about the oceans. I found this catalog…" she pointed to a printed page she held out. "Would be smashing with all this chat up about climate change."

I read it. "Sounds fine. What's the problem?"

"It's £200 is the problem! But look, it's got workbooks, wall charts… probably too much money. Sorry I asked. I know things are pretty tight."

"Doesn't sound that bad. Let me think about it." I chewed my lip. "We can likely find the money somewhere; maybe a donor."

"Okay, then." Trish relaxed.

"See? That wasn't hard was it?" I smiled. "I'm trying to get used to it myself - Head Teacher - all that. But I'm still a teacher, and your friend, right?"

"Yeah." Trish blew out a shaky breath and fairly trembled.

I closed the door to the hall. "Tricia, are you, uhm, doing alright?" I knew she had some anxiety issues.

"Fine," her head bobbed. "Fine. I'm able to… better now."

I hugged her briefly then went to my office to see if there was somewhere I might scrape up some money, for the coffers were bare. Must be an answer somewhere.

I thought that maybe I should go see Martin and talk about our latest thing - and that was the second man-issue I had to deal with.

He was shoving the gray mongrel out of his cottage as I walked up to the surgery. "Hi," I said.

"Uhm, hi," he replied, surprised and he almost sounded glad to see me. "I… wouldn't," he added as I petted the mutt. "Uhm, touch…"

"Oh, well." The dog took off and there I was with Martin - all alone. "So how are-?" But we stepped on each other's words.

"And how's your new..." he asked.

"You and things are going well?"

"Job? You first."

I took a deep breath, happy that I could actually talk to him. "Yeah, great! _Hard_ you know. Sometimes I feel like a fraud. Like they'll find out and the Governors will realize the huge mistake they've, erh, you've uhm, made and that I am in fact completely incompetent." I smiled up as he stared down at me from his terrace for I was in the lane. "But I expect everyone feels like that, don't they? Uhm, but not you obviously for you are a proper professional. That's why I'm here actually. Need advice."

"Of course."

I climbed to the platform, feeling more on par with him as I climbed to the terrace. "Well, there's this friend of mine, and I think she might be drinking too much. Having a hard time, her husband's done a bunk, and…" The news that Carolyn had practically run Mark Mylow off the road was all over town, and I was very concerned about her. This wasn't like her at all. She was steady, smooth, oh she had a drink once in a while, but lately things were off. Her husband Tom was a good sort but I heard he'd moved into a B&B yesterday after a yelling match outside of Martin's cottage.

So here I was asking advice from a man that I kept quarrelling with. I hadn't lied when I said he was a proper professional, for Martin was the highest educated person in Portwenn, other than a few university types that came down in the summer. As an MD he knew about medicine in spades so he was the logical source in any number of ways.

"Right," Martin replied.

"She's asked me to meet her later for a drink. I'd appreciate hearing what you think about how I might tackle it."

"Well, don't meet her for a drink for starters." He stared straight at me, and there was an edge about his words and eyes.

"Good point. But how many units are too much?"

"Does it matter how many units? You obviously think it's _too much_ or you wouldn't be here!"

That got me irritated. "_Martin_, I'm asking for you to give me a hand here. Caro… uhm, my friend, needs help and I don't know what to do."

"Well," he sneered, "if your friend is the person I think it is, and based on my dealings with the woman, then I don't think she _wants_ any help."

"Martin! But doesn't that depend on how you give it?"

"I dunnoh. How do you give it? If I seem to give people advice they want a medical prescription and if I give them a prescription they want advice!" Now he was prickly, bristling and annoying,

"Ah, but surely there are no fixed rules! You just have to feel your way along and listen to your patients."

"_Oh, right!_ That _hadn't_ occurred to me," he said sarcastically.

That tore it! "Martin, what am I doing _wrong_? Whenever I try to erm, _connect_, with you, you just… close down and then I start _doubting_ myself. Maybe it's _you_ who should have a _doubt_. Maybe then _you'd_ be more _approachable_ and _maybe_ then people would _want_ to listen to your advice! Apart from helping you in your job…"

He cut me off angrily. "Well, if you are _so_ _conversant_ with the finer points of my job then _you_ should know _what_ to say when you meet your _alcoholic friend_ Carolyn for drinks!" He whirled about and marched back into the cottage without a backwards glance.

Like I said - problems with two men. Ooooohhh! I clenched my fists and jaw all the way downhill to the pub.


	8. Chapter 8

Women

By the time I got to the pub I had cooled off. It was a shame really that Martin had gotten so angry, for the more I thought about it, the more his advice, no matter that it was so grumpily delivered, made sense.

I ordered a large bottle of mineral water from Jade the sprightly waitress and settled down to wait for Carolyn. I wasn't there long when she sat across from me I could see she was knackered.

"I am so glad to see you. The world's going mad around me I tell you." Carolyn looked flustered and angry.

"Carolyn, the thing is…" I started to say.

"Have you ordered the wine? I could absolutely kill for a cold Chablis."

I held up my hands to stop her. "I'm not drinking tonight." I took a good look at her and didn't like what I saw. "Have you been losing weight? Been sleeping alright?"

"I don't need a medical, Louisa," she bristled. "I'm seeing a doctor tomorrow and I just need a couple of glasses of white wine." Her eyes bugged out when she saw the bottle of mineral water that Jade set on the table.

I poured the water into two glasses while Carolyn gave me an exasperated look. "Oh, I just think that people… everyone… sometimes… can drink too much, is all. So I'm having water. Perhaps you can give it a miss?"

"What do you mean… _everyone_?"

So here it was - the moment when I needed to confront her. I wasn't her sister, or her mum, just a friend, and what are friends for? "I'm just concerned," I said slowly.

"Well, I'm just concerned, actually. Because if you had bothered to ask me, I'd have told you that Tom has _just left me_ and I feel completely like _crap_."

"Oh, Carolyn, sorry. Didn't know," I lied, for in the village there were few secrets.

"So we could have drunk that bottle of wine together, because that is what OLD FRIENDS do! And maybe, just maybe…"

"Alright. Look as an old friend," I started to tell her, "hearing you on the radio today - uhm, you didn't sound yourself. And… you sounded a bit shaky."

"So, YOU just wanted to tell me to SOBER UP like everyone else is doing?" She reached down for her handbag.

"Oh, come on, Carolyn. No… that's not…"

"Thanks, but NO THANKS!" She sprang up. "Stick to your pastoral care of nine-year-olds!" Then she marched away in a huff.

I felt like a fool, chastened and confused all at once, watching her walk away.

In the space of ten minutes I had both Martin and Carolyn yelling at me. I sat there, drank some water but when Jade came past I asked for a cold Chablis. Carolyn claimed she needed wine, and maybe I did as well.

Next day, I hoped to be able to settle things with Carolyn and make some headway. I sighed, finished the wine and went home, for there was always schoolwork to do, even if it mostly concerned the cares of nine-year-olds.

Next afternoon Danny Steel popped by the school with an offering of flowers. "Peace offering?"

I really wasn't glad to see him, but I had him come into the school anyway. I took him into one of the classrooms where we had a vase and the flowers were nice looking in it.

"Remember when we were kids? Right here?" He pointed. "This is the room they sent us to when we got detention for the wheelie bin. We dumped that kid inside and latched the top. Remember?"

That made me laugh. Talk about and old story. We must have been only 8 or 9.

Danny asked, "You give detention, Lou?"

"Try not to. Usually a good talking to does it, but what brought that up?"

"I dunnoh." He laughed. '"I only did that thing to Martin because he kissed you."

I was startled. "What? Has he, uhm, been talking?" That was all I needed for Martin to be blathering about us. But he didn't do that, at least not so far, or did he? "Danny, I'm confused."

"_Martin Ferry in the wheelie bin._ Remember?" He relaxed. "Oh… So that's why you been so cool with me."

I shook my head. "Uhm, honestly, nothing… there are moments, but not even those. _A_ moment, really."

"Oh… I see," he said. "_A_ moment."

"Yeah." I felt very uncomfortable discussing Martin Ellingham with Danny for it was just one kiss and a whole lot of belligerent words and ideas on top of it. "Thanks for the flowers," I said to change the subject. But I recalled the dream I'd had and twice to boot. Was that supposed to mean something?

Danny smiled. "They're nothing. Pretty, but you're prettier."

I grinned. "Thanks. Whatever happened to old Martin Ferry, anyhow?"

Danny chuckled. "I heard he joined the Royal Marines - became a real tough guy. I hope I don't meet him in any dark alleys."

I laughed. "Oh go on. Nobody could dislike you."

"Oh?" Danny brightened. "Thanks Lou."

Danny hung around and asked me to dinner. I didn't actually want to eat with him tonight, because I had called Carolyn earlier at the radio station _and_ her house and got no response. At the station they said she had gone home. At her house the call went to the answer phone after about a dozen rings.

I called her on her mobile - same story. "Something's wrong with Carolyn," I told Danny.

"You're really worried, aren't you?"

"I am. I'd better go out there and see what's going on."

"Maybe she's just in a funk."

"Still, come on." I locked up the school, as Mr. Coley the custodian had gone and Danny steered me toward his BMW.

"Come on Lou. At least let me give you a lift."

"Nice car," I said. It was almost new and smelled of leather.

"Second hand," he said as it started with a purr. "Got it off a bloke who'd broke off his engagement and moved to South Africa."

On the way out of the village and north to Carolyn and Tom's house Danny chatted away about the car, how many horsepower it had, what the oil change intervals were; all automotive rubbish as far as I was concerned. I tried to keep a blank face, but I was quite concerned about Carolyn. Was she an alcoholic? Totally unlike her if she had become one. It must have snuck up on her if she was. But her change in character was so sudden; more like days, than weeks or months.

Carolyn's house was dark and silent. Her car was in the drive but there was no answer to ringing the bell and knocking at the back. "Hulloo? Carolyn!" No response to our yelling.

"Must be at the pub," smirked Danny

"Without her car? No. _Something's_ wrong. And she was pretty much rubbish last night."

A car stopped on the lane and it was Martin, charging over to the house with a grim look and carrying his black bag.

"Heard from Carolyn?" he asked.

"No. House is all locked up."

"Tried the back?" He peered through a window or two and even shouted into the mail slot.

"All locked. Something's wrong, isn't it?" I said.

The man of action replied, "She might be seriously ill in there. We'll have to break in." In three swift moves he picked up a rock, broke a fan-light in the front door, then reached in and unlocked it. "Carolyn! It's Dr. Ellingham!" he yelled as we followed him into the house.

It was silent and empty, we thought, until we found Carolyn collapsed on the slate floor.

I yelled her name while Martin rolled her onto her back. "Carolyn!" I called softly, "What's wrong with her?"

"Carolyn!" Martin dropped to his knees. "She's in diabetic coma." He looked up at me. "Call an ambulance. Tell them I'm giving her insulin."

Danny started. "Insulin? She's not diabetic is she?"

"Yes, she is." Martin looked at me while I fumbled for my mobile. "Tell them I am giving her an ampoule of insulin. She is in diabetic coma and she needs transport now!"

"Hello? I need an ambulance! Portwenn," I told the woman at emergency dispatch.

"Alright love. What's wrong?" she asked in a bored way.

"A collapsed woman, aged forty. Carolyn Bosman; 478 Derry Lane, Portwenn. Off of Moor Head Road."

"Oh right. Now tell me what's the matter."

"The doctor is with her, says she has a diabetic coma!"

That got the woman moving. "Right! That Ellingham out there?"

"Yeah; Doctor Ellingham." I glanced over at Martin while he examined Carolyn.

"Tell them to hurry," he hissed at me. He checked her pupils then put a cushion under her head and covered her with a throw from the couch. "There. Better."

"Yes. Doctor Ellingham," I repeated into my mobile. "And he says to hurry." I heard Danny praying over my friend.

So while Danny prayed to the Lord for Carolyn's deliverance, Dr. Martin Ellingham did what he did so well; caring for the sick.

Carolyn started to rouse from the diabetic coma of ketoacidosis, Martin explained, while we waited for the ambulance to arrive. She had developed type 1 diabetes and then her liver got out of whack and started to create chemicals called ketones. My chemistry was mostly gone but that was a word I recognized.

I recalled that ketones were produced by the breakdown of both lipids and amino acids. "So that's why her breath was so bad," I asked.

"Yup," grunted Martin. "Basic biochemistry. Diabetes also leads to frequent urination and a raging thirst. But her breath - the ketones are decomposed into acetone."

"So she smells like paint thinner. Interesting," Danny mumbled as he held his hands clasped in front of him.

"Also like fruit at times or nail polish remover." Martin stood up when we heard a motor in the next ten minutes. "Here's the ambulance." He went outside while Danny stayed on his knees praying.

I hauled Danny to his feet and we trailed the ambulance and Martin to the hospital in Wadebridge. "Never a dull moment in Portwenn!" he exclaimed. "Think she'll be alright?"

"Hope so." I fished out my mobile and called her husband, Tom. He was ever so shocked to hear what had happened and said he'd meet us at hospital.

"I had no idea anything was _really_ wrong," Carolyn muttered later from her hospital bed. "Oh, sure, I guessed something was off… sort of muzzy, you know… just…"

"Well, they'll get you sorted," I said. "So glad it was…"

"Medical," Carolyn said. Danny and I stayed with her while Tom went off to the loo and then Danny told her that he'd keep praying for her.

Carolyn gave me an odd look and rolled her eyes. "Thanks Danny. I'm sure that will help."

"And for Tom too."

"Okay…" said Carolyn slowly, then changing the subject said, "So Doc Martin broke a window to get into the house?"

"Quick as a flash! Minor damage." I patted her hand. "All in a day's work."

Carolyn looked away then back to me and squeezed my hand firmly. "Maybe the doc's not as much of a tosser as we think."

"You might be right," I agreed softly.

Danny said, "He did get my mum sorted, so he does have his uses." He smiled brightly. "A bit gruff though and I don't think he likes me."

I rolled my eyes. "We'll stay awhile, if that's okay?"

Carolyn lifted her arm where the IV drip was plugged into it. "I'm not going anywhere."

Right then I heard a recognizable step on the lino and just as Danny put his hand on my back, I turned and saw Martin standing there. The look on his face was one of extreme disappointment and even sadness.

Danny's warm hand was right on the center of my back across my bra strap and that coupled with the sorrowful look on Martin's face made me feel quite odd. Before I could say anything at all he spun on his heel and left.

I shrugged off Danny's hand and stood. "Need some water." I went into the hall and watched as Martin trooped down the hall, splitting through people coming and going like an icebreaker in the Arctic. I almost called out to him but stopped myself. He clearly was upset to see me with Danny and to be honest I was sort of troubled to be with him, at least right then.

A moment was what I had said to Danny; Martin and me was just _a moment_.

_Was that all, Louisa?_ a little voice asked in my head.

It made me shake my head and chomp at my lip. _Women_ – who can understand us?


	9. Chapter 9

Dislikes

Carolyn recovered quite quickly, thanks to God and Martin, and in no time she was back on the air of 106.1 megahertz, Radio Portwenn. New listeners would have been none the wiser, yet they would have noticed a fair number of public service notices about diabetes and sugar free diets.

One afternoon thereafter, Danny was hanging about and had me up at the harbor overlook. He'd heard there had been some dolphins sighted earlier, and it was a good try, but if there really were dolphins at the harbor mouth, wouldn't binoculars have been handy?

I noticed he _did_ bring a bag of sandwiches and bottles of mineral water for this impromptu picnic. I wasn't hungry so I just sat there looking to sea, while he yammered on about his work, as usual.

Try as I might to scoot away, Danny snuggled up close, even put an arm around me, while I scrunched away bit by bit on the bench we sat on.

Just then Martin came galumphing along, heading down hill, black bag in hand and shouting into his mobile. "Pauline! Pauline!" he yelled. He slowed when he saw us there. "Afternoon," he muttered.

"'Lo," I said and turned to keep an eye as him as he went past crunching on the gravel. Another missed chance to talk, but with Danny's thigh jammed against mine, it was no wonder Martin seemed cross; but he was always cross.

"He does have a temper on him, doesn't he?" Danny grumbled around his sandwich.

"Not his fault _all_ the time, I don't think."

"Lou, if I treated my clients like that I'd have none!"

I was crosser with him now. "That why you're still in the village Danny? Because you've been treating your clients so well?"

He crammed the remains of his sandwich into his mouth and stood. "I'm off to the house. Mum's, in case you've fail to recall. I _am_ rehabbing the old homestead, in case you've forgotten!"

He left as well and after he had stomped off, I saw two dolphins breach on a wave just at the harbor mouth. "Well, Danny, you missed 'em," I said with satisfaction. I waited a few minutes to be sure that Danny had really gone then I slowly walked down the hill. Martin burst from the surgery and speed off in his car. Oh, well, another lost chance to chat or whatever I might call it.

Next morning at school I popped in on Trisha to see how she was doing. Poor thing was still nervous; that was pretty obvious. "So how's it going?"

"Good, I think. They're all very sweet. You've handed off a fine class to me."

I sighed. "I had this room for about four years. Seems odd to be down the hall stuck in an office. But yes, the kids are sweet, mostly. I thought you'd like them; they seem to like you."

Then I noticed how red and raw her hands were. "What happened to your hands?"

Trish startled. "Nothing," she said but she stood there ramrod straight by the board, like she was being inspected. I'd only know her for two weeks but I hoped she'd get on well. She was sweet, young, dewy eyed about teaching - but weren't we all when we started. Her work record was a bit spotty though.

"Been to see a doctor?"

"It, uh, comes and goes. I'll be fine," she replied.

I smiled and left her to it as it was lunch time and I'd better make an appearance in the cafeteria. That's when we had to call Martin.

The GP of Portwenn looked down his nose when he came to the first aid nook. "It's one of the boys. A fishbone in his mouth, he says," I told him. "Henry James and he is ten."

He sniffed at me. "A fishbone," he sighed.

"Our new teacher said he started gagging."

Martin inspected Trish with a critical eye. "Hmm."

"What was he eating?" I asked.

"A salmon sandwich with cucumbers on brown bread; mayonnaise, with the crust cut off and a packet of salty crisps," Trish recited.

I was impressed for I could not ever recall what the students ate, especially if they brought it from home. I usually couldn't recall what I had for the past meal for that matter.

Martin examined Henry's mouth with his penlight and with a metal forceps thing pulled something from his mouth. "Yep. There." His instrument held a fish bone about an inch long in its jaws.

Then the kid vomited right down Martin's suit. It wasn't very much, but still awful to be spat up on. I gave him a cloth to dab at the mess. To try and forestall a likely outburst, I asked Martin to look at Trisha's hands.

Martin sneered, and who could blame him, while his suit coat and shirt dripped goo.

I made the introduction. "Sorry, this is Trisha Soames. I snagged her from Truro Junior. Padstow wanted her as well, but I got her first."

"Really," muttered Martin in his usual despicable way.

"Hello." Trish was bright and cheery in spite of his tone.

"And… I noticed that her hands are very sore." I took one and held it out to Martin. "Think you could have a look?"

Wrong thing to say for when Martin spoke he was not happy. "Let me make a couple of things clear, Miss Glasson. One; a small fishbone is _not_ an emergency. Two; if one of your staff wants medical attention, _she_ should come to _my_ _surgery_. Now unless _more_ of your pupils wish to vomit all over me, I'll be off." He walked off. "Miss Soames."

That let me add to Trisha's introduction to our GP that he was not normally this rude; no wrong. "He _is_ normally that rude, but he happens to be a _very good_ doctor."

"Oh." Trish looked like a scared rabbit.

"I should make an appointment if I were you," I told her looking down at her chafed hands.

Trish took Henry back to the cafeteria, while I swished the remnants of Henry's lunch across the linoleum with a rag pushed by my foot. "Ugh. Nasty." I was about to call for the custodian when he appeared with the mop and wash bucket on wheels. "Oh, Mr. Coley, thanks."

He sighed as he looked down at the mess on the floor. "I heard. Nasty buggers. Messing up my clean floor!"

"Mr. Coley! Don't say that! Wasn't Henry's fault."

"His vomit ain't it?" He scoffed and went to work. "And afore you think I don't like kids, you're wrong! I just don't like the messes they make!"

I shook my head at the rudeness of our GP and our school custodian. Mr. Coley was usually grumpy, but perhaps a lifetime of being around children made him that way. Perhaps that was Martin's problem - he didn't like children.

We all know the things we like and the things we don't, but oh why was I suddenly surrounded by those who had so many dislikes?


	10. Chapter 10

Heart

Next day I saw Trisha in the school hallway and asked if she'd seen Martin about her hands.

"I did, he… refused to see me." There was a sort of an odd look to her eye as she said it.

"You're joking."

"No. He was too busy. So I left."

"Too busy? That man… ooooh." I dropped my voice as there were kids all around. "He must have had a good reason. Did he say?"

Trish shook her head side to side. "Anything else?"

"No." I wandered back to my office and was about to call him and give him a bloody good talking to when Stacey the school secretary looked in.

"Louisa, the fire drill?" she tapped her wrist watch.

I put down the phone. "Okay." I inhaled deeply. "Right. A fire drill, then." I was still steaming.

I tailed Stacey out to her desk and proudly pressed the button, ringing the alarm. My first fire drill as Head Mistress - yay!

The kids trooped outside and lined up, led by their teachers, but Trisha was missing. And here came Martha lugging her backpack and books from the building. "Martha! No! If this was a real fire you should have left all that kit in your classroom."

Martha turned back towards the school.

"No! Don't go back in now! Go and join Miss Soames. Uhm… where is Miss Soames?"

All her class shrugged so I went to find her. Was something wrong? I found her fiddling with files. "Uhm, what are you doing?" I asked her.

"Just trying to keep on top of things."

"We're having a fire drill, so… come on."

"I can't; there's too much to do."

"You have to join your class in the playground. Now!"

She took about two steps towards me, staring at her watch all the while, sighed deeply and then collapsed like a sack of spuds.

"Trish!" I bent down but she was out of it, it seemed. "Trisha?"

"Hmmm? Oh…" She seemed to be dazed as she looked at me.

"Did you hit your head? Damn. Don't move!" I dashed down the hall to a phone and called the surgery.

Martin took her pulse and blood pressure on arrival at school. "Did you lose consciousness?" he asked peering into her eyes.

"Don't think so."

"She was groggy but awake," I told him.

"Any nausea or blurred vision?"

"No," she said. She seemed quite normal now; compared to the lump on the floor she was a few minutes ago.

"Watch my finger." He waved his finger back and forth slowly while Trish seemed to be able to track it from what I could see.

"Oh. I didn't have any lunch. That might be it," Trish said.

"Yes," Martin sighed. "That would be a perfectly reasonable explanation." He faced me with a cross look. "Unless you have _any more_ emergencies for me I'll be on my way."

That made me mad. "I hope you're _not_ _suggesting_ that I called without good reason?"

"Oh, no," he muttered. "You wouldn't."

"Could you look at Trisha's hands please, while you're here?"

He turned obstinate. "Yeah… _when_ she comes to my surgery."

"She went to surgery last night and _you_ refused to see her."

He sniffed. "I was only too happy to make her an appointment but she didn't want to."

"Well, since you're here then?" I wheedled.

He set his case down with a thump and spoke to Trisha. "Do you wear rubber gloves when you do the washing up?"

"No," Trish said.

"I think you should," he said. "There," he addressed me with finality then spun on his heel and left.

I sighed. "Trisha, I am so sorry, he…"

She brightened. "That's alright. See you tomorrow." Trish took off but I followed her and she passed Martin in a rush. She sped off across the playground like a five foot tall rocket. I jumped right in front of Martin and waved a pointed finger in his face. "If you've got a _problem_ with _me_, don't take it out on my teachers!"

"I don't know what you mean," he huffed.

"I can't keep apologizing for you!"

"Then don't. I didn't ask you to." He walked on so I was addressing his back.

"Why do you have to upset everyone?" I almost was yelling at him. He whirled about and I kept on at him. "When you're with your patients, why can't you at _least_ make an _effort_? Smile! Try some small talk! Have a laugh!"

"Sick people don't want a laugh; they want a doctor who knows what he's doing."

"Then what about a bedside manner?" Come on Martin; give me one point at least.

"A bedside manner can't cure you."

"It makes them _feel_ better," I practically yelled.

Obstinacy rose. "Oh? It can diagnose an illness, can it?! Write a prescription?"

"Martin, you know what I'm saying. Please for once, just agree with me! You DO know what I'm trying to say!"

But he didn't that was clear from his squinted eyes and turned down mouth.

He stepped closer but his demeanor changed more; his face was less hard and his shoulders slumped. "Actually I find you hard to understand at the _best_ of times. Very," he shook his head, "_little_ of what you _do_ or _say_ makes much sense to me." The last was almost whispered.

That pulled me up short. "What are we talking about? Are we talking about… _what_? What _are_ we talking about?" I started fiddling with my hair in confusion.

"I'm… not quite sure." He cleared his throat and for a few seconds seemed to be at a loss for words.

I thought quickly. Oh what the hell. "Don't you think we should… _sit down_... with a drink and…" I felt my heart beating like mad, "stop having these _stupid_ bad-tempered mini-rows? And… sort out what we _really_ think about one another?

"Yeah," he stole a glance at his watch. "Alright."

"Uhm, not now, I'm busy tonight."

"Oh? Going to a prayer meeting at the chapel, are you?" he sneered.

"I'm… I'm… not seeing Dan… I'm just busy, right? Tomorrow night I'm going to be at the Crab, eight o'clock. You can _join me _or _don't join_ me. It's up to you." There I had said it. I spun on my heel and stepped away.

"Alright, I'll be there."

"Really?" I felt my lip tremble. "You mean that?" My heart really was going like mad.

"Yes." Without another word he left.

I watched with irritation as he went and I almost ran after him and asked him to talk - right then. I had a nice bottle of white wine at my house. That would be private and we could just… talk. And the school budget could go to hell. Although… it was likely best to cool off… get my thoughts in order. My pulse now pounded in my ears and throat. Louisa, get a grip, I told myself.

I stood in the school doorway and watched his close-cropped head drop down the hill and disappear. "Martin Ellingham, you can be a tosser, sometimes."

_So Louisa, if the man's a tosser why are you so interested in him?_

"Oh shush!" I said to that voice in my head.

"You talking to me Miss Glasson?" Mr. Coley was at my elbow with a confused look. "Did I say something?" He scratched his head. "Course I might have…"

"_No_ Mr. Coley. Just me being me."

"Oh. Right. That Doc Martin, he can be bloody minded can't he? I heard he's so cross all the time. He yells at his patients, cuts Pauline Lamb down all the time, argues with PC Mylow. Fact is Miss Glasson he's a right horrible bugger!"

"You don't mean that. He is a good doctor."

"Yah, I do. He reminds me of a top sergeant we had in the Army. Horrible, just horrible. Yellin' and screamin', extra duty, all that sorta thing." He pulled out a grimy rag and sneezed into it. "Said it would make men out of us."

"Oh dear. Sounds awful."

"Yup, it were. I heard how nasty Doc Martin was to you and that Miss Soames. Bah! Like the army all over again. Now," he blew his nose, "back to polishing a floor."

"Mr. Coley, Martin, uhm, Doctor Ellingham is _particular_ is all. And if that's a cold starting hadn't you better go see Martin, I mean the doctor?"

"I'll not argue with you miss. But you're wrong! Now off to my floor." He stopped. "And no Miss, I'd rather be back in the army doing extra duty and all that rubbish than go see that tosser - cold or no cold! Achoo!"

Mr. Coley left me and I stepped outside, letting the sea breeze cool me off. I watched as Martin's tall form appeared across the harbor as he climbed the hill to the surgery cottage. He stopped to yell at the dog that bedeviled him, had obvious angry words with the Portwenn girl pack that haunted the streets, and turned for an instant to look over at the school. Then he opened the surgery door and slammed it behind him.

My heart beat quickly all the while and I really was confused how jumpy it had gotten. Just have to see what tomorrow night brings. I sighed and felt a little calmer, but my heart kept up a rapid rhythm.


	11. Chapter 11

Pub

After a fitful night I was up early if not bright. My head was going like mad most of the wee hours thinking about Martin and the way he acted, plus other things, like his big square hands, fleshy lips and tall frame.

I couldn't quite believe it but I had the earthquake dream once more. Started pretty much the same, except this time the mangy mutt was hanging about and Martin actually called it over and the dog came to him slowly. He spent time urging the poor thing to come closer and fed it a bit of chicken from his sandwich. That was pretty remarkable, I thought. But then the earth split apart, and I was falling. But _this_ time, Martin grabbed me with both hands and pulled me to him, just as it was almost too late.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah. Yeah." I noticed he was still cradling me against his square tall body. "Martin… you… want to let me go?"

He smiled down at me… his neck bent down and he homed in for a kiss while one hand tried to snake down the back of my waistband… and then my damned alarm started to ring.

"God!" I shook myself as the device clattered loud enough to wake the dead. "There you go, Louisa! In that crazy dream he's either got his knickers all in a knot or he's about to whisk yours off!" I sat up and stretched. "We shall see," I muttered then crawled from the bed to a cold shower - more to wake me up then anything.

After school I wandered up to the headland to get my head settled. I'd decided to just put it all on the table. I'd ask Martin if we could just start over. Go straight back to the beginning and try to act like our blowup at the selection board, where I'd badgered him and said right out that I didn't think he was suited for our village. I sighed at that.

And was I really suited to be Head Teacher of Portwenn Primary? I hoped I was, but there was so much to learn. Martin had to be feeling just the same about the village. All a shock to his system - from surgeon to GP in a mad fall from grace. Mayhap we were the same, sorta.

Yeah, I said to myself, that might just crack him open; get me under his layers of protection. I was going back home when I found Martin climbing from his car. "Hello Martin, I just heard about Phil Pratt. Will he be okay?"

Martin nodded. "Ah yes. Nasty. I think he will… be okay."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I think he will."

"Good." We then stood there like fools looking at each other at a loss for words. If what I had heard from the grocer was true, who spoke to Pauline's mum, who'd heard it from Pauline, who got it from Al Large, Phil Pratt had been pinned under his clod-breaker for hours, bleeding badly. "On top of losing his wife too," I said.

Martin nodded. "These things happen."

That wasn't all I'd heard, but how Phil lived his new widower-hood was no concern of mine. I was open to modern life - after all we are all only human. If Phil had a boyfriend, and thinking of the gruff farmer that way, was rather eye-opening, but fair enough. I had schoolmates who were gay or lesbian, so not that much of a shock, but I was pretty sure chins would be wagging.

"Hole in his leg, I heard."

"You're well informed." Martin stood there holding his black bag and fumbled for words. "So… I, ahumm… see you in the pub, later." He actually smiled as he said it.

"Eight o'clock."

"Yah." He nodded and I his eyes were fixed on my face, not my body. The sweater set I was wearing fit sort of tightly and most other men (maybe not Mr. Pratt) would have raked my body up and down with his eyes, but not Doc Martin.

Perhaps he was only looking at my face to see if the glaucoma had come back? I inspected Martin and I did scan his suit; the shoes scuffed and dusty, his trouser knees were mussed, but above there (I had to stifle a smile as I wondered if he wore boxers or briefs), he looked much as he always did; not a hair out of place.

"Good," I smiled at him and he actually grinned back. "I'll see you." I went down the hill and I resisted a look back to see if he followed me with his eyes. He probably did and I liked the thought.

So much had happened in the past few days. Muriel Pratt had died and blamed Martin for her death, although she'd had heart trouble for about five years, Mark Mylow had taken up with the bottle blond that'd moved into the village, and I'd gotten cross at Danny Steel and Martin at nearly the same time. Another whirlwind week in sleepy Cornwall.

I had a bite to eat at home, did up my hair and put on fresh clothing and makeup. The orange-red V-neck top was not one I wore often, and the cami underneath showed just a hint of white lace. The skirt was an old thing, but it really was the only thing that went with that blouse, striped red and black with a geometric flair. The wedge shoes I wore to work finished things off.

I looked at myself in the mirror. "Right." I turned. "Not bad, Louisa. Now, will he notice? Better yet, will Martin actually talk to you? Or will he sit there all gruff and glum as usual?" My lip was taking punishment from my teeth. "Right. He can't be as bad as the School Board of Governors, can he?"

The Crab was busy for a Friday night, of course. But I got a bottle of nice red wine from the pubman, two glasses, and went out on the tiny balcony. With my back to the harbor I could see Martin as he came in. My watch showed it was just short of eight. I had to sit on my hands since they fluttered about nervously. "Calm."

I could see Mark and blonde, her name was Julie Mitchell, playing footsy under the table and snogging and giggling. Good luck, Mark. Hope you get what you want.

I sighed, for what I wanted was another start with Martin Ellingham. Eight came and went, and then ten after. I poured a small glass of wine for myself and sipped at it. Minute by minute I got more fidgety. No Martin. I was practically wearing out my wrist turning it to see the time.

"Come on Martin," I whispered. "Haven't got all bloody night." Well, no; that was wrong. Maybe I did. Maybe I should just sit here until the cows came home.

The wine in the glass was gone and I resisted having another. It was now half-eight and no Martin. Damn. He stood me up!

_It's not a date, Louisa. Take it easy._

"Yeah, sure. Right," I muttered. Another look at my watch. Eight forty five. He lied. He's totally blown me off.

I was about to give it up when Danny came out, beer in hand.

"Hi there? Waiting for someone?" he asked.

Was I? "No," I told him. "Not anymore."

Danny pulled out a chair and sat across from me. "Good."

I set the unused wine glass aside and poured myself a half glass.

"So," he said, "what's going on?"

I sighed. "Not much."

"Ah. Well, let me tell you about my plans for mum's house," he started to say and I didn't stop him. "I'm going to paint it all top to bottom, refinish all the floors…" he went on.

I nodded and smiled and the wine was good, but I felt totally and utterly let down; just gutted.

Danny went on and on about his plans while I just sat there drinking.


	12. Chapter 12

Truth

Maureen Tacey yawned and complained how tired she was Tuesday morn. She suggested it might be her thyroid.

I told her to get it checked out.

She frowned at me.

"What?"

"I don't want to go and see the doc. He's so…"

"Yeah, a real pain in the arse." We looked at one another silently exchanging nasty comments on our GP, so I went back to work.

That afternoon, Maureen came to me. "Louisa, I'm off to see the doc."

I had my head bent down over the budgets again. It was frustrating and tiresome for there never was enough - money. "Good luck. I'm sure he'll set you right."

"I just don't have any energy is all, but I nearly bit the head off poor Miss Soames mid-day. She was fluttering about in the supply cabinet. I've been all jumpy and jittery. Does that make sense?"

Trisha Soames had seemed to be slightly more settled lately and her chafed hands were getting better. I had suspicions about what might be going on with our newest teacher, but I kept them to myself. "Miss Soames is new, that's all. And as for the thing… I really wouldn't know, but Martin… I mean, Doctor Ellingham should know." Trisha was just a nervous type, I told myself.

Maureen poked at her ample belly. "Been warm; gaining weight as well."

"_Fine_ Maureen. Hadn't you better be going?" The school had grown quiet and I almost relished this time of the day when I had the whole building to myself.

Maureen smiled grimly. "Off to the hangman," she said and then slunk off.

I tried to get my head back to the numbers on the screen - numbers which did not add up, at least not the way I wished - and thought about Maureen's reluctance to go to the doctor.

"Martin, this is just what I was trying to tell you! People have to feel good about seeing their GP! Maybe I was right about you all along? And you're just ill-suited for the village?" I shook my head and went back to the bloody budget. "Still, you are a good doctor," I sighed.

Next day, Martin barged up to me in the playground. After almost crushing some children who were playing with a ball, he blundered over to me like a landed codfish.

I shooed the kids away and faced him, expecting God knows what to come from his mouth.

"Uhm, Miss Glasson; I need to see a patient; Maureen Tacey?"

"_Hello_, Martin." The cheek of the man.

"Uhm, yes of course."

He clearly had no idea he'd done anything wrong. "She's getting ready for the talent night later. I think she took a very long walk to clear her head. Best to catch her at the Village Hall tonight."

"Right."

I decided to take my best shot. "I, I won't tell her to expect you because _she_ _might just wait_ for _ages_ only to find that _you_ _don't_ _show up_."

He looked at me quizzically. "I beg your pardon."

"Martin, last week we were supposed to meet and talk," I said slowly and carefully. No need to yell, just yet.

"Well, uhm, something cropped up… a patient. It was your friend, Trisha Soames."

"Really?"

"And you were right she _was_ in a bad way."

"Oh." Was that the reason? He just got tied up? "I see… well, you still could have called."

"Yes," he said and walked away.

So was his _yes_ an affirmation that there were telephones in the village (I knew he had my mobile number), some sort of brusque apology, or merely a backhanded admission that he'd bolluxed things up?

After he was gone I could only stand there and think about all the nasty things I'd thought about him on Friday, plus Saturday, Sunday, and Monday. So he didn't _actually_ stand me up for he was with a patient! Well, that excuses everything, right?

I went back inside and poured myself a cup of coffee from the dregs in the staff pot. With a _patient_ and it was my Miss Soames. That put a different light on the whole thing, didn't it?

Why oh why didn't he call me? We could have met Saturday or Sunday, or… anytime really, for I had moped around most of the weekend in my pyjamas, waiting for him to call, or trying to figure out the exactly the best way to tell him off good and proper. It had been a tossup and the whole time I alternated from steaming mad to nervous worry, for there was the possibility he just didn't like me.

Martin was either the absolute worst person in the world when it came to dealing with people, or he was an extremely dedicated physician to the exclusion of all else. Which was it?

_Lady or the tiger, Louisa? _went that little voice.

I sipped at the coffee, made a face and poured it down the sink in the staff kitchen. Worst coffee in the world; cold and bitter and half-burnt, and that was the truth. At least I could judge a cup of old coffee correctly.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Thanks

Friday night Danny met me at the Village Hall for Talent Night. This was an annual event to have fun and to raise money for the needy. Portwenn had plenty of holiday home owners, a few artists, musicians, and retired professors, but it was not a wealthy village by any stretch of the imagination. Since King Henry the VIII the village had been primarily based on fishing, farming and transport. Fishing had dwindled down to a few boats, and the rail line was long gone. Holiday cottage rentals made up a lot of the difference, but there were people hereabouts that needed help. Some of my students were always in need, but we tried very hard to help them. Talent Night was one of the things that helped. Next month was an event for the RNLI but I digress.

We went inside and Danny sat there clearing his throat for a long time. He'd drink some of his pint, then start clearing his throat and coughing.

"Are you alright? No, you're not."

"I'm… fine. Just working a lot on the house." He hacked some more. "Now if those proposals get picked up in London I'll be in good shape, money wise."

"You should see the doc."

Danny said, "I don't think he likes me Lou."

I nodded. "Yeah, well, it's hard - for him. He's still a stranger."

"I grew up here and I've become a stranger, to _you_ at least."

I opened my mouth to answer, but Mark Mylow interrupted. "Ah, Louisa, you know, Julie."

"Yeah, we met. Hi." Julie was wearing a fabulous looking black number. "I guess congrats are in order."

Julie hugged Mark. "Isn't it wonderful?"

"Louisa," Mark bent towards my ear and whispered, "I hope this, uhm, well… doesn't mean you won't be a friend."

"Mark! Of course! We've known each other for a long time."

Mark grinned. "Well… we did have a thing, sorta…"

That startled me while Danny gave me a sly look, for he obviously heard what was being said.

"Mark, uhm…," I said, while Julie grinned at me mischievously. "It's okay, really. I am happy for you."

Julie kissed my cheek. "I hope we can be friends."

"Yeah, I'm sure we will," I said.

Danny coughed into his handkerchief.

"Danny, you alright?" asked Mark. "The doc can…"

Danny waved him off. "Just a tickle."

Julie drew Mark away to a table in the back of the hall and I heard him chuckling while Julie giggled, amidst the sounds of snogging.

"Those two! But I am happy for Mark."

Danny looked back at them. "She's free with her hands."

"God!" I took his head and turned it to me. "Don't look, for God's sake."

He nodded and smiled. "I'll just have to look at you then."

"Oh."

Shortly, the place was filled to overflowing with standing room in the back. Roger Fenn appeared on stage and started announcing. "Alright you lot! Keep it down."

Danny coughed hugely just then.

"Oh, come on! We haven't even started!" yelled Roger. "Now, making her debut here tonight, let's all give a warm welcome to the lovely and talented, your very own, Maureen Tacey!"

Danny jumped up with another coughing fit and left. Poor Danny. He's obviously quite sick, but refuses help. Typical man, I thought; they are know it alls, the lot.

A figure stepped from the wings through the swishy strip curtain and it was… our GP, looking grumpy and as uncomfortable as ever. Martin waded through the packed tables, his head ducked to the side. Danny too, hacking and coughing, sped off and I hoped he'd talk to the doc about his horrible cold.

Maureen was in fine voice. It was _You Don't Know Me_, by Ray Charles, and I knew that for my mum had that in vinyl and she almost wore the grooves straight thru playing it over and over.

'Cause you don't know me,' went the song and that might have described my recent days trying to deal with Martin, and Danny for that matter.

Maureen had been taking voice lessons from Fenn for over a year, and while not quite West End quality, she sounded fine. Standing ovation of course along with a giant kiss from Roger, which seemed more than the usual sort of thing. Hmmm, I wondered.

Bert and his dummy did their bit, Roger and his band mates played, there was a sing-a-long, and so forth. The funniest, to most everybody, was Alan Tinkle who did a smashing imitation of certain villagers, but his impression of Martin Ellingham was dead on perfect, but I didn't like it when the audience booed the character, not the performer.

Clearly Martin Ellingham was less than loved, yet Portwenn depended on him, so how could they dislike him so? I suppose when your eyesight is going, or you keep fainting, or you just can't get out of bed, they're willing to put up with Doc Martin. Perhaps I felt the same way.

All in all, it was a fun night, but Danny had to leave at intermission for all his coughing. "You think you can pick up some paint for me and bring it out tomorrow morning?" he asked.

"I can do that. You want me to help with the painting?"

He nodded. "They have the order at the hardware. It's a gallon of 'Sugar Snap.' "

"Sure, Danny. You need to go home and rest. You're sure painting is such a good idea?"

"Got to get it done; need to get the property listed." He finished his beer and coughed more. "Night Lou." He kissed my cheek and I was taken aback. "Bless you."

"Good night, Danny." Did he think there was something going on? I rolled my eyes for what we had was _so long ago_… our first time… God, no! He must think he can rekindle that flame. Dare I tell him that was just experimentation? Sort of a trial run? God, I hoped not. I sat there biting my lip, worrying.

Mark walked by me with Julie draped across him. "Louiser? You okay?"

I nodded. "Fine." Maybe. "Sure." I tried to keep my face expressionless. "Good show."

Saturday morning I called the hardware and they needed to mix up the paint for Danny, so while waiting I went over to Martin's office. He opened the front door and burst out just as I got there. "Oh, Martin, I just want to say something, about the other day… just… that I'm sorry."

He edged away from with one his typical blank looks. "Right."

"And uhm, well, I heard your parents were visiting, so I figure you've got a lot on your plate at the moment." I knew how hard my mum and dad could be on me, not that I'd seen either for quite a while.

"Yup," he edged further from me while I stepped a bit closer.

His body language spoke volumes. "Not anything wrong is there… with your parents, I mean?" He was upset, must be.

"No."

"Because look, if you want someone to moan to… we could talk. I…"

He took another step away and I followed. "Erh…" he grunted.

"Cuz God, I know what parents can be like." Boy did I.

He opened his mouth and shouted, "Louisa! Shut up." Then he just left, walking up towards the headland.

I stood there feeling the fool bearing the brunt of his hostility. I'd made it a point to go up there to make peace with him, and then… oooohhh! That man, I seethed all the way to my car. "Right, Martin. I'll just shut up, keep my mouth shut, every time you're around, would that suit you?" I slammed my car door and then picked up the painting stuff.

On the way out to Danny's mum's house I replayed the latest row and I was quite cross. Maybe Danny would be a better sort; he was interested. But Danny wasn't Martin, not by a long shot and what broke us up long back was his roving eye. I suspected _charming_ Danny had not changed in that behavior, despite his holy words, and he could be very self-centered.

Danny stood in a cloud of dust, while he ran the sanding machine. I waved and he switched it off. "Lou," he coughed. "You're a star."

"Got the paint, _Sugar Snap_. Where you want it?"

"In a jiff I'll show you."

He turned the floor sander back on and clouds of dust from the floor rose in waves. He put his hand on his heart and I did the same back, surprised.

He must be feeling something for me.

Now, did I? But it was the first time in a long time I'd felt… well, something; something other than mixed irritation and fascination.

I had just walked out in the hall when there was a crash behind me. What the? Danny lay on the floor gasping and wheezing, clutching at his chest. "Danny! Danny!"

"Sorry Lou. Can't seem," he wheezed, "can't seem… to…. get… a… bloody… breath!"

I straight away called the surgery. "Pauline!"

"Oh, hi! Wasn't Talent Night a stitch? And Bert with his dummy…"

"Paul, I need to speak to Martin and right away! Urgent!"

He came on the line. "Louisa, I'm in the middle of surgery…"

"Martin! I'm up at Danny's mum's, and there's a problem! Danny's collapsed! I've called an ambulance, but he can't breathe! I think we need you!"

"Is he breathing?"

"Yes, yes. But barely! Hurry, Martin!" I propped Danny on a divan while he grunted and gasped. His eyes rolled wildly. I put an old pillow under his head. "Martin's on the way; so's an ambulance."

He didn't seem to react, just lay there staring and blinking slowly. "Come on Danny! Come on! Hang in there!"

Shortly I heard a car on the gravel and ran outside for it was Martin. "He's upstairs."

Martin said, "Louisa, when you came to the house this morning…"

"Quickly. Come on!"

Danny lay gasping like a fish out of water, his face pale and sweaty.

Martin set to work. "His pulse is very weak. Where's that ambulance?"

"Shall I try them again?"

"Yeah."

I ran to get my mobile.

"Tell them there are signs of cardio-vascular collapse!" Martin yelled at my back.

I got through to 9-9-9 and asked their arrival status. "There was a jam on the Truro roads. They should be here within ten minutes," I told Martin.

"Bugger." Martin looked about the room desperately. "Alright, can you get me a bottle of water or a container of fluid; something like that?"

I found a bottle of water in the other room, just as I heard Martin say, "Danny! I think you have a collapsed lung."

I got back with a bottle of mineral water. "This is all I could find." I saw Martin jabbing a giant needle into Danny's chest. "Martin! What are you doing?" Was he trying to hurt Danny?

Martin didn't answer just jabbed the thing with force. Danny jerked up groaning then fell back his eyes looking fixed, pupils staring up at nothing. I handed the water bottle to Martin, who uncapped it and dropped some tubing into it, with the needle on the other end. Air or something bubbled out of the tube into the water while Danny started to breathe normally and be blinked and yawned. "That's better," Martin said and I heard him sigh deeply.

Thank God. "He's gonna be alright?"

"If that ambulance gets here, he will be." Martin took his blood pressure. "Better, better. Yeah."

"What did you do?" I was clueless.

"He had a collapsed lung. I managed to re-inflate in. Stupid to be sanding without a mask. I told him." He checked Danny's pupils. "I think he'll make it, but his lungs are filled with fluid. The lining of the lung tissue gets inflamed from foreign bodies and then secretes fluid. By surface tension the tissues stick together. By punching a hole in his chest, I reestablished the partial pressure between lung and pleural cavity, re-expanding the organ."

"But he'll be okay?" I'd dropped to my knees by Martin and I could smell terror that had oozed from his pores. "You're sure?"

Martin nodded. "Ought to be."

"My God, Martin. You've done it again. If you hadn't come…"

He only ducked his head and took Danny's pulse once more. "Try to stay calm, Danny. Nice easy breaths and don't try to talk."

I patted martin's shoulder then held Danny's hand until the ambulance arrived. The medics strapped Danny to a gurney while Martin bossed and bullied, putting an oxygen set over his nose and mouth.

"A think three liters a minute should do it; all the way to hospital. Think you can manage that?" Martin asked.

The medics looked at the doc and rolled their eyes at each other. "Right. Can do." But it was clear they didn't like being bossed about, especially by Dr. Ellingham.

I watched nervously as they loaded Danny into the ambulance.

"I'll be off then," Martin told me.

"Aren't you coming?" I hugged myself, still shaken over the close call.

Martin dropped his bag into his Lexus. "No. There's no need. They'll keep me informed."

"Shouldn't we just stay together?" I asked.

"You the wife, luv?" the medic asked me.

"No, I'm uhm… no…"

"There's a history," Martin said factually.

"What?" my head whipped around.

"According to Danny," Martin said, and this time it sounded judgmental.

"Martin…." I advanced on him "_You_ shut up!" I stormed into the back of the ambulance and off we went. Danny's color was so much better that he kept trying to talk under the oxygen mask.

"Sh, shh." The medic checked his vitals again. "Not bad, mate. Doc said you was sanding floors without a dust mask."'

Danny nodded. "I don't like masks." His voice was muffled and he tried to take the oxygen mask away. "Listen, Lou..."

"No, mate, _you_ listen," the burly medic said and firmly put the mask back in place. "You probably got a whole lot of watery fluid and dust down in those air sacks. You'll be sicker than a dog for a while. And it's gonna feel like you've got an elephant on your chest."

"Oh dear," I said while I held Danny's hand. "Daft man."

"Had to get the floors done," Danny mumbled.

The medic; his badge read Tim; shook his head. "Mate, you have to listen to people! Surely somebody said you needed to wear dust protection!"

Danny's eyes looked ashamed.

"And _no one_ told you?" Tim prodded.

"Uh, uhm." Danny coughed a little. "The man at the rental spot and Martin. They both," he had to pause, "told me."

I held my head in my hands. "Oh Danny! Why do you bloody men never listen? I told you as well!"

His dark eyes turned to mine. "You did, Lou. You _did_. Sorry."

Tim tucked the blanket about him tighter. "Now, you just rest easy. Danny, is it?"

Danny said, "Steel."

"Alright, Mr. Steel. You're doing fine." He leaned towards the window to the cab. "Frank, step on it. Let's not mess about."

"It's serious, then?" I asked.

"Oh yeah," Tim sighed. "We see people killed like this. Two in the last six month."

Killed? He said killed. I held Danny's hand tightly.

Danny looked straight up at me. "Thank the Lord."

History? Martin said history. What else did Danny tell him? Damn. No, I thought, thank _Martin_. "Yeah. Whoever."


	14. Chapter 14

Hope

Danny did fine, in hospital. He was really, really sick but thanks to Martin's intervention he lived to get treatment and that's about as unemotional as I could put it. The morning of Danny's admission I bumped into Roger Fenn at hospital and I heard all about how he and Maureen were going to have twins.

"A bit of a shock, but isn't it bloody fantastic?" Roger exclaimed. "Just takin' her some more flowers!" he held a huge bunch.

"Wow, Roger!" I hugged him, "That is good news, isn't it?" Maureen was preggers. Wow! She was fifty years old? Well Louisa, you're not quite a teenager yourself. "And twins as well!"

Roger pulled me aside in the busy hallway. "Now what are you doing here?"

I had to fill him on Danny's dust exposure thing. "But Martin came straight away, poked this hole in his chest, I thought he was doing something horrid, but it was lifesaving. 'Meatball surgery' the ambulance medic called it."

Roger ducked his head. "He is amazing, isn't he? Gruff bugger but…"

"We'd all be in trouble without him, yeah." I bit more words back. "And Maureen is doing fine? I'll have to visit."

"Oh God yes! The OB folks say the boys are doing fine - the babies are boys, did I say that - and Maureen can't wait to get big as a house."

"How far along as she?"

"Scans say about 30 weeks." He smiled hugely. "I'm going to be a dad, again! I can't wait to tell my daughter she'd going to have half-brothers! She'll be shattered!"

"You don't see her; your girl, do you?"

He shook his head sadly. "No. I messed up that marriage. Maybe I'm getting a second chance?"

A second chance. That phrase had been going thru my head. Me and Martin - I keep giving him second chances; more like fourth or fifth chances lately. "Roger I am _so_ happy for you; both of you."

Roger hugged me again. "Where there's life there's hope, right!"

"Give my love to Maureen. But this thing with Danny, it was brilliant, just…"

Roger held my shoulder. "Louisa… I… and how are…"

"What?"

He looked long and hard at me. "Nothing. Tell Danny we're pulling for him."

"Right." I went back to the A&E department to see when Danny would be transferred to a ward.

A few days later I was heading to school and I came across Mark Mylow and we discussed the wedding. Poor man was concerned that I might feel odd coming to his wedding to Julie. I assured him I was fine; looking forward to it.

"Well, we do have a bit of a history, is all."

One sorta date that wasn't and he figured it was a history? Danny and me had a history, a tiny one, but me and Mylow? No. "I'd like to be there." Mark had a wistful look. "You alright Mark? You look down."

"Water under the bridge eh. Fine - just the Doc - asked him… to be my best man, but…"

"Oh dear," I said for I knew how high expectations could get on the relationship front, for how many times had Martin disappointed me?

"You think I done something to annoy him?"

"I doubt it."

"You probably know him better than anyone else 'round here. Has he said anything?"

Did I? Well if I did it was far away from any sort of normal sort of rapport. "I haven't spoken to him recently. Just try not to take it personal."

"You know what he's like; not one to explain his ways. Sometimes it's like he's being… well, rude."

"Yes, he _is_ rude." Further chatting was stopped by a football crashing against Mark kicked by one of the students on their way to school, my school! "James Whyte! Look, Mark, I'm sure you're going to find someone else." Then I started hectoring the kids. "Get to school! Come on! All you lot! Move it!"

So Mark finally noticed that Martin was rude. Rude was such a lovely word. Tying that in with harsh, ungrateful, obstinate, opinionated, uncouth, impolite, uncivil and discourteous were just some of the words to describe our new GP. So on that same day at lunch I bolted my food down and marched straight up to the surgery to beard the lion in his dean.

Martin Ellingham was clearly surprised to see me. "Martin, a word," I told him and marched into his office.

He followed with obvious caution. He swung the door closed so we had some privacy, but I had a feeling that Pauline would have her ear to the thin door in no time. Marti started with, "I'm sure you are aware that unless it's an absolute emergency it is a waste of my time…"

I took a very deep breath and plunged in on him. "Well I would consider this an emergency of sorts! Now you might think you _not_ a part of this village, but you are _like it or not!_ We're a small community, almost a family, and sometimes people feel a little put out about the way you are. And sometimes people feel that you just don't care, and I think it's _just about time_ that _someone_ told you that. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a job to get back to." I turned to the door and stopped. "And I didn't tell you what I was talking, about did I?" Bugger. That came out awkwardly.

"No." He stood there with his usual quizzical look probably thinking the mad head teacher launches herself on another one of her rants.

"Erm, I… bumped into Mark this morning and he was _quite_ upset."

"I'm simply _not_ qualified to be his best man. Apart from the fact that he's the local policeman I know _absolutely_ nothing about him."

"_Precisely_ because you _never_ _bother_ to _ask_!" I tore into him.

"_Precisely_ because I am not _remotely_ interested! Are you?"

"Martin," I sighed, "Mark _likes_ _you_ and you've upset him." I stomped to the door, well as much as could in three inch wedge shoes. The door met my hand and I went through, closed it and stopped. Damn it there was something else! I stuck my head back inside. "And by the way Danny is doing very well. Thank you for saving his life."

I could have sworn I heard a muttered "Thank you" after I closed the office door once more.

Pauline shook her head as I passed her desk. "Sorry Louisa," she said. "He's… just that way. I heard what went on, is all."

"Yeah, of course you did." I went back to school in a huff. But this is just what I had been telling Mark. He was … different. He really didn't are about the village? Was that what he said? All the little bits of business in the village and he just had _not a care?_ That explained a lot.

Saturday morning was the school fete and I was on a ladder tying up a banner across the play yard mouth when I saw Martin marching past clutching a paper and a container of milk. "I hear Al is going to be best man."

"So I gather." He came towards me. "That's a happy ending then."

"It still doesn't excuse what you did Martin." The wind was flapping the banner and the other end fell.

Martin pointed out the fallen banner. "That's come down now."

"Well can you pick up please?!"

"Yes mum." He took the fallen banner and tried to re-anchor it.

He was razed by Frank who was with his mates. "Hey Doc! Nice one, Miss! Lead him to it!"

I really wasn't quite sure what the kid meant, but it did make Martin help. "You have to tie a square knot, so it doesn't slip." Martin explained. "Granny knots, though they can also be tight, cannot easily be untied."

"Oh, were you a Scout?"

"No. It's a basic knot they teach in stitching practice. Never used with sutures though."

"Oh." The banner flapped me right in the face.

"Louisa?" Martin yelled. "You alright?"

"Yes. I'd hoped to have this up before, but there were so many things to do this morning."

Martin came to me and steadied the ladder, looking up at me. "You need help."

"I'd hoped I'd have more."

"Ah." He squinted up at me in the sun. "Well, I'll be off," he said as I came off the ladder.

"Thanks Martin."

He ducked his head and walked away, glancing back as he did. I'd sort of hoped he might stick around. _Oh Louisa, why bother?_

"You know what?" I answered that bothersome voice, for I still had hope to bridge the gap.

"What's that?" Martin asked.

"Oh, could you help for a minute over here?"

He nodded. "Of course."

"It's just that you're very tall…"

"I am."

"And I wanted to put another hook just up there." I pointed up the side of the school.

Martin looked from me to the spot I was pointing to. "You can't reach that."

"I did try… even stood on the top of the ladder…"

"What? You stood on the very top of the ladder? Louisa… that is entirely unsafe to put your shoes above the second rung from the top. Surely you recognize that a fall from that height could cause serious injuries!"

"I'm touched that you care about _someone_."

He looked at me sharply, looked around then stepped closer. "Louisa," now he nearly whispered, "I could not bear to see you… erh… anyone fall off a rickety ladder such as _this_ _one_." He shook the one I'd just been on. "Can we find another? Less of an antique death trap?"

He did care? "Mr. Coley has another, a purple one around the side just there."

Martin went off then came back with the ladder. "Where, uhm… do you want this hook?"

"Up there, by that crack. Could you screw this hook," I gave the thing to him, "in there?"

"Shouldn't be difficult. You have tools?"

There was a toolbox at my feet. "What you want?"

"A pair of pliers and the longest screw driver you've got in there."

"Let me see…" I rooted about. "Yep. Here."

Martin looked at what I gave him like he'd never seen hand tools. "Can you brace the ladder for me?"

"Sure." We set it firmly on the ground and Martin climbed.

"Kept it well braced!" he advised, "And if it starts to shift and I'm falling, let go and clear out!"

"So you'd rather hit the pavement than have me catch you?"

He forced the screw hook into the crack in the stucco holding it with pliers and twisted. "No talking."

"Oh, right," I whispered, "don't want to bother the surgeon at work."

"Here." He gave me the pliers then with the screw driver as a lever wound the large screw hook into the wall. He wiggled it. "There. Seems secure."

He got off the ladder and gave me the screwdriver. "Where's your custodian? Shouldn't he be doing this?"

I shrugged. "Thanks Martin." I put the tools back in the toolkit. "Better get these back where they belong or Danny will have a fit." I closed the box and found Martin giving me a wary look. "Quite a stickler… when it comes to his tools."

"Right." He sniffed. "I'll bet he is." He then folded the ladder and moved it out of the way.

I had to admire the way his suit fit for it was well made. I bet this was the first time he'd climbed a ladder in it. "Thank you."

"Right," he said as he pulled on the rope making the other banner stretch across the yard.

Pauline came by. "Always knew you had that community spirit deep down in you doc, very deep down." She addressed Martin directly. "Stop by my stool, doing henna touches and hair braiding," she giggled as she walked away. "Give you a discount if you're nice to me."

"Alright, I'll be off then," he said to that.

"Martin, could you help me with one more thing?" I asked him. People were setting up the sales tables for bric-a-brac, jumbles, as well as craft and art projects, and refreshments.

I set Martin work with a stapler attached some streamers to a pole. "Thanks Martin; you have the height advantage."

"Ah, uhm, yes." He set the staples quickly. "That should do it."

I was arranged art on a table and there wasn't much time before the fete started; twenty minutes of less, must be. "My kids did these."

He finished with his chore and picked up a painting. "It's a horse."

I glanced at it. "No it's a church."

"Church?" He inspected it further. "It's not very good is it?"

"It was done by a four-year-old."

"Still looks like a horse."

Joey, who was one of the teenage boys that had jeered at Martin, ran up just then, all out of breath. "Doc! It's Jack, on the beach!"

"What is it?"

"A weaver - one of those stinging things! You know, a jellyfish?"

The doc sneered. "I thought you could find your own bottle of hot water?"

"No, he's choking!" the kid yelled.

"An alternative remedy is to urinate on the sting. Can you do that?"

"Doc! He can't hardly breathe for nothin'!"

Now the boy was shouting so I peered over the edge to the tidal beach far below. Sure enough I saw the teens down there and one of them was lying on the ground. "Martin!"

Martin took a look and gasped then he turned and started running. "Pauline! Fetch my medical bag and meet me on the beach!"

I took off after him and Pauline ran as well. At the Platt, Pauline scurried up hill and I tailed Martin to the tide line.

Martin dropped to his knees on the sandy shingle next to a boy who was gasping.

"We weren't doin' anything!" one of the boys shouted. "Nothin'!"

"They're not supposed to be poisonous," said another.

"He's in anaphylactic shock," Martin pronounced. "It's a bad reaction to the sting."

"Is he gonna die?" asked Joey.

"Yeah," said Martin, "unless he gets an immediate injection of adrenaline."

Frank said in horror. "It's just a game."

"This wasn't supposed to happen," added Joey now in tears.

Martin looked around. "Where's Pauline?"

Pauline Lamb scurried across the mud with Martin's medical bag.

"A game. Jack found a weaver, and was seein' how long you could hold it - take the pain. You know." Frank fidgeted. "Just a game."

That set me off. "That is the MOST irresponsible thing I have ever heard!"

"He's gonna be okay, though, ain't he?" Joey asked.

Martin ripped open his bag and pulled out a metal tube which he uncapped and jabbed into the sick kid's arm. In a few seconds Jack's straining noise turned into a giant gasp and then he was getting air. "Yeah, that's better." Martin took his pulse and examined his throat. "Much."

"All the thanks' for me Doc!" laughed Pauline, who was panting, still out of breath.

Martin ignored her.

"Well, it's no harm done, right?" Joey asked.

"What were you thinking?" I practically screamed. "Whose idea was this, Joey? Are you stupid?"

Martin peered at the kids. "Maybe next time you'll get _really_ lucky and there won't be anyone to help. And he'll die. That would funny."

The kids dug their shoes into the sand and tried to turn invisible.

"Wouldn't it?" Martin prodded.

Jack Jenkins, the kid who'd been stung was now sitting up. "Look, have these so-called friends of your get you home. Wash your arm in warm water and soap. Then have your mum or dad call me. Right?"

Jack was helped to his feet by his friends. "So you like saved my life."

Martin only nodded then he left. I caught up with him. "Thank God you're here."

"Well, that makes a change I suppose," he muttered.

"Uhm, Martin, _of course_ we're glad." I wanted to tell him we did need him and we did care about him, but my words died in my throat when Pauline ran up with an emergency call on her mobile.

I listened as it became clear that Mark Mylow had been bitten by an adder on his stag campout. Luckily Al Large had been able to get a signal for his mobile.

Martin took the phone from his ear. "Damn - lost the signal. How do I get out to West Point?"

"Why?"

"Mark Mylow's been bitten by a snake in the woods near there."

"Stewart - the Ranger. He can help," I said.

"I'm not sure I want to be guided by someone whose best friend is a six-foot tall squirrel."

"Listen Doc, He might be short of a few sandwiches, but he knows those forests," Pauline told him. "He can help."

"I'd better go and tell Julie." I rushed off knowing that Martin would do what it took to find them. "I'll know you can do it, Martin," I said to myself. "At least I hope you can."


	15. Chapter 15

Super

I'd just told Martin that I was glad he was around and now he was rushing off to the woods while I twiddled my thumbs. I found Julie just coming to the school fete. "Oh, Julie, hi!"

Julie turned with a brilliant smile. She had her hair pinned up and wore a really cute white and black top and I hated to tell her what I had to tell her. "Mark is what?" she asked when I told her.

"Out in the woods, with Al Large. And it seems that they're sort of lost…"

"Lost, the constable got lost?" She laughed. "Figures. He can barely find his way around the village cane he? Oh, they'll turn up. He's been going on and on about this stag weekend. Like to drove me mad."

"Julie… no! Stop. Well, it seems that Mark, your fiancé, got bit by a snake, probably an adder, according to Al."

"Oh come on! You're putting me on right?" She laughed. "This is the old jolly-up the girl from Exeter right? This the best you could do, Louisa?"

I took her hand. "Now listen and listen well. No foolin'. Mark is sick because of the bite. Doctor Ellingham and the local Forest Ranger have gone after them."

Julie shook her head. "Well, I hope we don't have to cancel the wedding. The church is booked and everything."

Pauline was inking the shoulder of Sarah at the moment. "Well, if you are worried about your deposit, you could always switch to a funeral."

I nudged Pauline as that was unkind.

"Sorry," said Julie, "I'm… I'm going out of my mind, about Mark." She heaved a big sigh and almost cried, but as I looked at her it didn't seem that real what was playing over her face. If that was me and my fiancé was lost and snake bit I'd be quite nervous and a lot more panicky. Wait a minute… that's almost how I felt right then, but the worry wasn't over a fiancé, it was over a certain doctor.

Pauline's mobile rang. "Doc, that you? Yeah?"

"Mumble, mumble. Bzz, buzz Mylow… Large… buzz mumble."

Pauline yelled, "Is that bad? No need to shout, Doc."

"Tell him we can get the whole village out there; we can organize a search party!" I shouted towards the phone.

Pauline listened. "Fine. Okay. Bye." She snapped the phone closed. "They're still looking. Told me to stay off the phone incase Al calls me."

Time passed for an hour or so and the fete was winding down as the sun sank. "I'll call the Doc," Pauline announced. "Doc? Anything?" she closed the phone quickly. "Still nothing on Al."

"Where the hell are they?" I muttered.

Julie rocked back and forth. "I need a cuppa tea. Anyone else? No? Okay." She toddled off on her three inch open-toed heels and I couldn't help but notice that her toenails were painted blood-red.

"She's taking this well," Pauline said drily.

"Well how would you take it, Pauline? Sorry, Al is out there as well."

Pauline nodded. "At least Al's not been stung or bit, or whatever."

We watched as Julie calmly sidled through the crowd.

"There she goes," said Pauline, "the Black Widow."

"Oh, don't say that."

"Oh?" said Pauline. "Did you see them tight black slacks she was wearing?"

"I did, but what does that matter?"

Pauline sniffed. "Louisa, I don't think she was wearing any knickers."

I was surprised. I caught a last glimpse before Julie left the school grounds. "Yeah… I see, what you mean," for the rear view of Julie Mitchell was… revealing.

"Told you."

All we could then was to wait.

After another forty-five minutes, Pauline's mobile rang. "Hello! Yeah! Really! How's Al?"

"How's Mark?" I asked her. "And Martin?"

"So you're all safe then?" She listened intently. "Yeah, yeah… yeah… ouch, musta hurt. And Al's okay? Sure. At the surgery then. Bye, Doc."

"Well?"

"Okay, here's the scoop. Mark is fine or will be. Stewart and the Doc both tangled with a poacher's trap. Stewart got it worst - wrist and ankle."

"Oh dear. But Martin's okay, you say."

"Pretty much." She took my arm. "Come on let's go find the Black Window." We left the school and headed for Julie's cottage. "Louisa…" Paul said.

"Yes, Pauline?"

"I was wondering, well, you and the Doc…"

"Listen Pauline there is _nothing_ going on between me and Martin. Not a blessed thing."

"Really." She held up my hand to my eye. "So then why was you chewing on your fingernails?"

I drew back my hand and put both in my pockets. "Martin's just not… used to… the countryside is all. And besides, if something happened to our new GP, we'd have to start all over, right?"

Pauline chuckled. "Well the next one might be better."

"Or worse. Might be some neurotic, overweight woman for all we know!"

We gathered up Julie, who was into her fourth cup of tea and walked to the surgery, trying very hard not to imagine what the men might look like after emerging from the deepest wilds.

Julie paced to and fro. "I never thought…"

"Thought what?" pried Pauline while I stood to the side and tried not to squirm. Now Louisa just…

_Just what? _said the voice.

Just stay calm, Louisa. Stay calm, is all, I told myself.

Suddenly Stewart's jeep hove into view carrying all four. Mark was in the cargo box with Martin, while Al drove and Stewart looked drawn and knackered. They were all filthy and smelly but were all clearly glad to be back in Portwenn.

"Oooh, I've been so worried about you," Julie said and moaning laid a lip-lock on Mark that I thought would suck the lips off him.

"Just a bit of harmless, fun, Jules," Mark said when he came up for air. "Sorry."

Pauline did her part to smother Al Large while I could only stand idle and watch.

Stewart was just as muddy as the rest, but he was dribbling blood from hand and foot.

Martin ushered him and Mark into surgery while Pauline muttered something about tea. Bert suddenly blundered up complaining about his bad back.

"Join the queue, Bert." Martin looked him over then headed into the cottage.

"So, did you have a good time, then?" I asked him.

He stopped and faced me. "Oh yes. Fresh air, man traps, poisonous snakes. All quite charming."

"I was worried," I told him.

"So was I. Mark's condition was almost… well, it was critical."

"No, I know. I mean… I was worried about you." There I'd said it and I meant it. I was upset about what happened to Danny, but this time I was really and actually worried about Martin - quite a lot actually.

Stewart called out, "Doc?"

"In a minute Stewart." Martin stood there, muddy and tired, one shoe gone, a stocking foot dripping muddy slime on the slate, yet his blue tie was still perfectly in place. He looked deep into my eyes and his mouth opened and seemed about ready to add something; something meaningful.

Stewart interrupted. "Doc! It's just that I'm getting blood all over your floor." He'd come to the door and his right wrist was a sodden red mass, dripping on the slate and threshold.

Martin flinched and gulped. "Sorry, I... uhm…"

"Yeah," I waved a hand in farewell. "Bye."

As I walked off I thought that perhaps I should have stayed, made tea, or toasted bread, or something. But… no, Martin would be in his element. He'll be officious, brusque, tired and cranky. He'd be super-doc, and maybe, just maybe, that is who he really is.

I clattered on home and needed a good stiff drink to celebrate those who'd returned from the barren wild. Splendid day all around, Louisa.

I lifted the wine and drank half the glass in one go. Bloody splendid, Louisa - super!


	16. Chapter 16

Time

They say that pain can tear us down, and that's exactly what I felt at the moment. A raging headache, upset stomach, and more - far more. I sighed and rubbed my face into the pillow. Damn that dream! Why does it keep coming back?

Again the earth came part and this time I did fall as the ground fell away beneath me, but Martin, in this version, did grab my hands and save me. But he left me dangling… just dangling in space. The dream Martin didn't say a word, just stared down at me with an expressionless face. Then he opened his mouth and one word came from it. "Time!"

Now as for the pain, that was from drinking way too much the night before. I managed to lever myself out of bed, while the room whirled about. "Louisa, you are hung over, and how!" I drank some water, downed Paracetamols and went back to bed.

As I lay there and my head pounded, I replayed the welcome home to the intrepid adventurers. Mark got a huge kiss, and so did Al. Stewart, well, Stewart just wanted to be bandaged up so he could escape into the wilds once more. Martin was the ring master of that circus, urging tersely to the wounded. I just stood there, finally telling Martin I was worried about him.

And but for that unplanned leak that Stewart's bandage sprung I actually might have had an actual two-way conversation with him. I burrowed under the blanket when I heard Mrs. Clibb yelling outdoors in a loud and nasal voice. "Louisa! Louisa? You up?"

I practically crawled to the open window. "Oh hi," I tried to shield my eyes but the brilliant sunshine blinded me, which did no good at all for my headache.

"You still in bed?" the woman called. "I just come back from church and I got some lovely maters from a friend. Would you like some?"

I sort of wrapped my PJ top tighter about. "No, not quite still in bed. What time is it?"

"Luv, it's half two in the pee-em." She chuckled. "You musta had a helluva night! Celebrating, was ya?"

"No, not actually." I changed the subject. "Tomatoes?"

"You come down and I'll give you some. Got some onions as well!"

"Oh… okay." I stepped away from the window, stripped off and crammed myself into a pair of jeans and a loose jumper; even ran a hairbrush through my locks. I ran down to the door and opened it.

Mrs. Clibb was both my closest and _nosiest_ neighbor. I don't actually think she thought I was partying, but I'm very sure she knew I was home alone for the cottage walls were quite thin. Her gray head was bent over the basket. "Here, take 'em."

"Oh," she peered up at me while I asked, "You want to come in?"

"Sure you don't mind?" she asked but was already half inside while she asked.

"For a minute…" my voice sank for a visit from Mrs. Clibb might last an hour was my experience.

She hustled indoors. "I do like this cottage, Louisa. I really do. Me and my old man always talked about buying it and knocking out some walls, put the two together, you know. But… well he took off, and that was that!" she cackled. "Probably just as well, he were a tosser and drinker."

"Right." I smiled or tried to. "The veg?"

"Here, here," she gave me the basket. "Take 'em. I got a whole basket for meself. I squeezed a couple of those tomats and they're none too new. I'd not mess around with 'em too long. They're probably past their prime, if you ask me."

I kept the forced smile on my face. "Anything else?"

She grinned a snaggle-tooth smile. "Naw, not really. You heard about Mylow's mis-adventure out in the woods, I'm sure. They said he were at death's door until that Doc Martin found and him shot him up with some miracle elixir."

I nodded. "Yes, true. Doctor Ellingham did that."

She patted my arm. "Louiser, the other day I called him a tosser, and seems I might be wrong."

I nodded. "Doctor Ellingham does have his uses."

Mrs. Clibb said, "And he is a tall man; I always liked tall men."

"I like tall men too; I mean I like… men… not to be short… erh."

"I know dearie. I know." She looked long and hard at me. "Shelf life, Louisa, that's the problem with us females; shelf life," she cackled and tugged upward at her blouse over her ancient chest. "Just like those tomats - them and _us_ won't last forever."

Laughing she left and I could only shake my head at her odd comments. I sniffed at the basket. Yes some of these tomatoes were definitely past their prime and I hoped I wasn't.

I came from the house one morning to get to school and there was Danny. I'd picked him up from hospital the previous night and we ate fish and chips on the way back to the village. Now, it appeared he was going to walk me to school. "Been a tough few days for you, hasn't it?"

"Oh, yeah. Feel that air!" he acted like he was pushing sea air into his nose. ""I think I forgot how nice mornings can be here. This air is making a new man outta me."

"I'm glad you're feeling better. Any word yet on those projects you've mentioned?"

"No, no." He sighed. "I keep hoping…"

"Oh, Danny something will turn up. Give it time."

He turned and looked at me with a long face.

"What? What's wrong?" I asked.

"Time. _Give it time._ Everybody talks about _time_ like it's something that will never run out… but it does."

"Oh, Danny, still thinking about the dust thing?"

"Yeah, I am. And my dad, the heart attack took him when he was fifty-one; not very old. He and mum thought they'd grow old together." He twisted his hands together then.

"And that didn't happen, of course."

"No." He fell silent and started whistling a little tune. "Well, we'll see, right? Take it as it comes. Let the Man upstairs worry about that."

"Oh, yeah." Danny's religious bent surprised me, for he was never that way before. Maybe almost dying does that to a person, but he'd started spouting off like this when he came back to see about his mum.

"Well come on, milady!" he brightened. "Let me walk you to the old millstone - the Portwenn School." He started galloping downhill and I had to race to keep up. "You have to work!"

"Steady on, Danny! Careful, you might collapse right here."

"No chance of that, there's a doctor in the house." He waved ahead for there was Martin coming round the corner with a parcel.

"Hi Martin," I said and I could see he was none too pleased to see me arm in arm with Danny.

"How are you?" Danny asked.

"Late," Martin said, clearly annoyed.

"Look, as you can see I am released and generally have a new lease on life; so thank you," Danny beamed at him.

"Yeah," Martin grunted.

"I owe my life to two men; and you and the _Man Upstairs_ saved my life."

Oh God there he goes all religious, I realized. Martin would not like it.

"Yeah," Martin said and walked on.

"It's true you know - the whole lease on life thing," Danny said turning to me.

"I'm glad," I told him.

"In fact, this whole thing it's really got me thinking how precious life is and how you've got to really seize the day… or the girl."

"What you say?"

"I've been thinking - instead of doing up mum's place to sell, we should move in, you and me."

"What?" What did he say? Did he say what I thought he said?

He stepped in front of me and held his hands out almost pleading. "Look, I've been thinking about this all night, right? I was going to ask you later, but I can't wait. Louisa… will you marry me?"

Everything stopped for a second. "What? Wow…" OMG. "Where did that come from?"

He smiled. "Lying in hospital with a bloody oxygen mask on my face and nearly every time I opened my eyes, you were there, or mum. And when you weren't there, I wanted you to be, so I could see you. Know what I mean?"

"Ah…" What should I say? A bicyclist sped past and almost knocked us down. I stepped aside and it gave me a few seconds to think. "Danny… I…"

"Look, Lou, I know this is sudden, but maybe, just maybe me getting sick was what I needed to wake me up - really wake up! Maybe I've been in the wrong place, wrong city, all this time? And I didn't know how much I missed Cornwall and Portwenn," he took my hand, "and you."

"Oh Danny, that is…" I hugged him briefly. "I'm really, really…"

"Glad? Happy?"

"Surprised is all." That was the truth and his face dropped as I spoke.

"Oh," his face fell. "But we could sell your place, or, or rent it out; keep it as an investment."

"I really… really don't know what to say."

"Say yes. Say _yes_, Lou."

"But this is a _big thing_ Danny! I _need_ to think about it…"

"Say yes! Come on, say yes! Make me the happiest…"

"Danny!" I said crossly. "_Don't_ rush me."

He held up his hands. "Okay, okay. Didn't mean to be pushy… but…"

I looked hard at him for despite his protest he was pushy, _still_ pushy, just like way back. When we were teens he kept at me and at me, flirting, making passes, although of the nice kind, until finally I said yes.

We were eighteen and my dad had taken off somewhere and… well it happened - the two of us… together… playing grownups. Sex; sex was the big mystery and we went there, together. It didn't last. Not more than a few weeks really, and to tell the truth being with him, _that way_, wasn't that wonderful. Marry Danny? Me marry Danny? He wanted to marry me?

"See you, Lou! See you…" he blew me a kiss.

I laughed nervously as I went into the school. Marry Danny? I had to go into the loo and have a sniffle; sort of - somewhere I could go and have a good cry in private.

_Louisa, why are you crying? _asked my little voice.

"Good question," I said.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

New

That evening Danny found me on the Platt as I was pouring wine into two glasses, for I was expecting him to show up.

"Lou! Hi!" he sat by me.

"Somehow I knew you'd show up." From his enthusiasm this morning I thought a safer meeting place would be the Platt. I wasn't sure I actually wanted to be alone with him, at least not just yet.

"Wine, great." He took a glass and sipped from it.

"Danny, I was thinking about way back, when we got together and split up, and you know when we split up…"

"I know, I know… sorry. At that point in my life it was all about my job and I think it's the modern equivalent of hunting with a spear; providing for the family. Like programming."

"But that's rubbish, isn't it. Do you really think we're programmed?"

He looked at me agape like I'd just said that air wasn't breathable and water drinkable.

I asked him, "We make our own decisions, don't we?"

"Well, the thing is I've changed is all. That's what I been trying to tell you." He rubbed my leg under the table.

I scooted away from him about an inch. "I know, I know. I… just don't want to rush into anything. You've only been back in the village a few weeks."

"You're not saying _no_ are you?" he whispered and his voice shook.

"No, no, I'm not." That mush was true, but I certainly wasn't saying yes, either.

His mobile went off right then. "Sorry." He answered and got excited. "Oh hi! Yeah! Yeah! Now is a good time, hang on." He spoke to me next. "Its work… see you later."

I waved as he jumped up and retreated. I did want to talk so me more about us… but it would have to keep. I looked at the waves going back and forth in the harbor and the peaceful sloshing relaxed me. I could just sit right there and watch the world go by, and drink wine, and try to sort things out.

"Excuse me, miss? Can I trouble you? Graham Orchard, Salvation Army."

I reached for my purse when I saw his simple uniform.

"No, I'm not collecting." He held a photo in his hand. "I'm trying to find this girl - Emma Louis. But she's probably using another name at the moment. She was fourteen when this photo was taken."

I squinted at it and I had no clue. "No, no. Sorry, not someone I know."

He sighed. "Can you take another look? Please. She's in her early thirties now. She's changed her appearance likely, for various reasons."

I stared harder at the picture. "Nope. Sorry."

"I've think I've spoken to the entire population f the village." He sighed. "Too bad."

I was still looking at the photograph and there was something that pricked at my brain. If I squinted at the face, I thought I saw a resemblance to someone I knew. "Hang on, there's something, but I dunnoh, I dunnoh. I might be wrong." I looked at Graham whose face showed something more than disappointment. "Come on." I stood. "There's someone who just might know."

I introduced myself to Graham.

"So you're from the village?" he asked. "Pleasant little place."

"Born and bred. Lived away at school, but I'm back. This is my home and you're right, it is nice." I took Mr. Orchard up the hill to Martin's surgery. I rang the bell and Martin appeared at the door. "Oh hi. Martin there's something I need to ask you."

"What? Do you want my blessing?" he sneered.

"What? What for?" I was totally puzzled at his rude comment. "We need to talk to you for a minute."

Martin fumbled at his wallet when he saw the man in uniform. "Right, erhm, come in." He let us in and faced Graham after I introduced them. "And I still don't have any change."

"Martin," I gave him the photograph. "Take a look at this. This girl is now a woman aged 32, has likely dyed her hair and changed the style, and is a lot slimmer."

"She began using different name years back," Graham added. "A lot of troubled young people do that; a way to reinvent themselves."

Martin inspected the photograph. "A troubled childhood, then reinventing yourself and then what?"

"Oh, identity fraud; basically credit card theft. Some cards have been used recently in Portwenn. My concern is to reunite her with her mother. The police aren't involved, exactly." Graham smiled. "Can you help?"

I stared at the photo again. "Do you think it could be?" There was no doubt to me it was Julie Mitchell or whoever it was.

Martin cut me off. "Of course it is."

"So what do we do?" I replied.

"We?" Martin said in an uninterested tone. "_We_ don't do _anything_."

"Surely we have to do something?" I glared back.

"Why?" Martin sniffed.

"For Mark, Martin." Surely he could see that?

"Mark? Mark who?" Graham asked.

Martin turned on Graham. "Shush. I don't think it's any of my business and I don't think its any of your business either." He handed the photo back. "Goodbye."

Clearly Martin was not interested in helping at all.

"Hang on a minute, if she's here…" Graham stammered.

"Martin?" I jumped in. "What, what's the matter?"

Martin stood there expressionless with his back up, obviously forgetting the little speech I'd dumped on him about being part of the village. He cocked his head and looked right through me like I was already out of his house.

"Never mind." I said to Graham. "Come on, this was a _total_ _waste_ of time; should have known."

We got outside and I was furious, if anything madder at that moment then when I was facing Martin. "That obstinate man… bloody…" I stopped. "Sorry."

"Is he always like that?" Graham asked. "Standoffish?"

"I have to apologize. He's from London and in a small village such as this… well you can see he is a fish out of water. Sorry he was so mean to you."

"But never mind him. This girl, you do know her?"

I bit my tongue. "Graham, just why are you trying to get her back to her mum?"

The man sighed. "Her mother has cancer; she's dying. Maybe three months to go, and she so wanted to see the girl - to make up for - well, things; things that happened." He shook his head. "Nothing else."

"Okay. I'm certain her mum want the girl there if it's like that." I recalled my rotten childhood and if my mum showed right then, or fell sick and wanted to see, I didn't know what I'd say to her. Could I forgive the hurt I felt?

"It is. A sad case, but so many of them are. So, can you tell me where she's staying?"

I sighed. "Look it's not quite as easy as that. Give me until tomorrow, right? There are other people involved."

Graham nodded. "This Mark."

"Yes. It will be complicated." Mark would be crushed. I had seen how excited he was about their upcoming wedding and when he got excited he was _really_ excited. The church date was only a week off. "Very."

"I see," he cleared his throat. "Well then, how can I reach you tomorrow?"

We exchanged mobile numbers. "I'll call you about three-ish? I have to work at the school."

Mr. Orchard smiled. "Thank you, Miss Glasson."

"I'd not want you to think we're all as rude as our new GP."

"Oh?" Graham said. "No that wasn't rude. He didn't consider it any of his business. I understand that."

Graham either had a blind spot a mile wide or he was a trusting soul, but he didn't know Martin the way I did. "Right. Tomorrow then."

Next day I was shoving the last kids out of the school, and Jack Burke was humming 'here comes the bride.' Word had spread that Danny Steel had asked me to marry him and as for people getting into my business, I'd heard any number of thoughts both pro and con from the village. Even the kids were getting into it.

"Thank you for that, Jack," I told the boy sarcastically and he made a face at me as we went off; little blighter.

Suddenly Martin was in the street calling to me. "Louisa."

I was not happy to see Martin and I was sad. "I went to see Mark, but you already told him. I thought you said it wasn't our business." Mark had been stiff lipped with frustration, rage, and sadness.

He'd looked bleakly across his police desk and shook his head when I went to his house cum station to tell him.

"I know, Louiser. I know, already. I found out from the Doc. Not quite the person I thought…" he replied.

"Mark, I am sorry. Anything I can do?" I reached over and rubbed his shoulder.

"Thanks. Thanks. Now I need to figure what to do is all," Mark said softly.

"Mark, if there's anything you need…"

He smiled wanly. "I did love her you know. At least I loved the Julie I thought I knew."

Now Martin wanted to talk about the matter further and in the street. "Ahm, it… it came up in the context of a medical conversation."

"Did you expect it to come up?" I glared at him.

"Ahmm… yes, yes, I did."

"Then _why_ didn't you say that last night, instead of giving the impression that you didn't care? _Why_ do you do that?" I watched Martin as he stood there, speechless. "Anyway… poor Mark. Is he alright? He wasn't when I saw him."

"No, I, uhm, doubt it." He squinted at me.

"He really loved her… and I admire him for that. He didn't hold back. He absolutely went for it." That's one thing about Mark Mylow. He wasn't a terribly confident person, seemed to me. I thought he had plenty of insecurities and this mess might make him do something drastic.

Martin stood stiffly, but he looked a little ashamed.

"Well, see you," I said, gave a little wave and headed back to the building.

Martin cleared his throat. "Louisa, are _you_, uh, gonna _go for it_ with the architect?" he said but he didn't sneer.

"Martin," I said softly and with some pain, "what's that got to do with anything?"

He stared at me, speechless once more.

"I don't know," I added and that was the truth.

"Maybe you're waiting for a signal from on high."

"Now you're being _horrible_." I shuffled back into the school, sagging with sadness. Poor Mark! So Julie was any number of other women, seemingly living by her wits via con game. What was she thinking? That she could settle here and be the constable's wife? Did she think no one would ever find out or was she turning over a new leaf? Julie was trying to change or thought she could.

And Martin? Martin seemed to be just as awful a person he seemed to be; rude, obstinate, and angry. Was it the village's fault that he couldn't do surgery? He must think so; why else take it out on the rest of us?

I sagged against the locked door at my back. I sighed for I should be thinking about _Danny_ and his proposal and _not_ _about_ Martin. Maybe our new GP really couldn't stand all the new things here; new to him but customary to me.

And Danny, what to tell him? Was I actually attracted to the new Danny or did I long for something, or someone else?


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Signs

Later I went to the market and was just about back to the house when Danny came bounding up, beaming. "I've had a phone call, actually several phone calls!" He was so excited he was practically jumping and down. "Are you all right?" he asked when I didn't react as he expected.

"Yeah, yeah. Just Mark - all a bit of a shock. You heard?"

"Yeah, I did. I heard about that, but this call - you see it's not just a warehouse gut and conversion in the East End! It's bigger, better! Their first choice just backed out and suddenly… yours truly is in the frame."

"Pardon?"

"This is the one Lou! This is _the job_ I been hangin' on for!"

London? Now he was talking about London? "A job… in London. Well make up your mind Danny. What happened to us getting married and living in your mum's house?"

"We can get married and live in London!" From his face he was ecstatic.

"But I live _here_; I work _here_. I'm the _head teacher_ of Portwenn Primary." He was knocking the pins out from under and me and I was trying to understand; but I didn't. This isn't at all what I wanted.

"Lou, you show up at any East End primary school and they are going to get down on their hands and knees and worship the ground you walk on!"

"You just don't get it, do you Danny? My life's here and until five minutes ago I thought yours was too!"

"Well so did I! But…" he waved his hands while he fumbled for words, "things… change! I didn't plan this! It's sudden, I… I understand that. You need time; time to think."

I shook my head. "But it's _not_ sudden." Right then I knew what I wanted. "_Go_ to London; _take_ the job." I turned from him to go home.

Danny dogged my heels like a bothersome puppy. "If you don't mind my saying you're being perverse now."

I whirled and started shouting. "No! Look Danny! I _know_ who I am! But _you_ don't seem to have a clue who you are or what you want. One minute it's London; next minute it's Cornwall. Sorry, I haven't said anything about this before, but all your finding religion - where the _hell_ did that come from? Now I've been feeling sorry for Mark and his fraudulent girlfriend, but you know, this is the _same thing_. There's _no substance_ to you, Danny."

He glared at me. "I don't think you mean that Louisa."

"Don't tell me what I mean!" I felt steam practically blow from my ears. The nerve of him! Thinking I should just drop everything and follow him!

Danny's face was stricken. "Because if you did mean that, I, I can't see how _I_ can recover from that, how _we_ can recover from that."

I looked quite hard at a button on his shirt for a few seconds then up to his face. "Then let's not recover Danny." I said it simply and sincerely.

"Not recover?"

I tugged my purse strap back up on shoulder. "Bye Danny," I said and that was that for I walked away and I felt like a giant weight had been lifted from my shoulders. It might have been a bolt from the blue but this blowup was just what the back of my mind had been hoping for; a really good reason to tell Danny Steel NO.

You know the funny thing about our fight was it didn't hurt - not even a teeny tiny bit. If Danny thought so little of me that I would drop everything, my new job, my lovely house, and living in my home village to follow him on a spec job to London, then he didn't really know me - no he didn't know me one bit!

It harkened back to the mini-row with Martin when he explained his disinterest in really knowing Mark Mylow or anyone else in the village. The song that Maureen Tacey sang at the Talent Night went through my head. There are some lines that go:

_No you don't know the one  
Who dreams of you at night;  
And longs to kiss your lips  
And longs to hold you tight  
Oh I'm just a friend.  
That's all I've ever been.  
Cause you don't know me.  
_

I remember them well for my mum used to sing that.

How much did I know Martin Ellingham? I've certainly been dreaming about him but that didn't mean I knew him. I put the groceries in the cabinets and the fish in cooler. "You don't know him, Louisa, and he doesn't know you," I said aloud. "So… what are you going to do about that?"

Part of that plan was to buy a new toothbrush so I went to the chemist's. Mrs. Tishell was bustling about behind the counter, her short blonde hair draped over the foam collar that encircled her neck. It was such a fixture of the woman I'd never asked about her neck problem.

"Hi," I told her, "I need a new head for my electric toothbrush."

"I have them. Right there on the shelf, Louisa. Say," she came around the counter, "I heard that congratulations are in order? You and Danny Steel - wedding bells?"

Putting a hand on my hip I told her, "Mrs. Tishell, Danny Steel and I are _not_ in a relationship of any kind."

She looked quite startled. "You mean that." Mrs. T took my hands and gave me a sad look. "Don't leave it _too_ long. I was pretty, not as pretty as you, but men did look. Then when I was about thirty, they stopped looking, so that's when I started not taking the collar off - for what was the point?"

I nodded. "I see." This was the most personal conversation I'd ever had with Mrs. Tishell, and despite my yelling at Martin about his own lack of personal engagement, here was a woman I'd known for over twenty years and actually knew very little about her.

"There is Clive, of course; out on the oil rigs." She turned and hung her head.

"Mrs. Tishell, you want to sit down?" Mrs. Tishell looked quite upset as she sagged against the glass display case, so I put my arm around her shoulders. Poor thing, she seemed troubled.

"Noo!" she sobbed, "I just want to take this bloody collar off!"

"Mrs. Tishell, its Sally isn't it? Sally, why don't you take it off?"

"Oh, the Doc's right… I'm just… it's an emotional crutch." She stammered. "A bloody crutch is all."

"Do you want to take it off now?" I whispered.

"Yeah," she nodded.

"Just for a minute, now. Don't overdo it."

She slowly pulled on a Velcro tab and released the foam collar. I don't remember ever seeing her without it. She looked taller somehow with it off and without the collar her face looked slimmer. Sally sighed as tears fell from her eyes.

"How does that feel?" I asked her.

"Well, it feels…" she laughed, "I feel liberated… I feel," the phone rang and she turned her head quickly towards it, and gasped in pain. "Ahhh! Owww!"

"Mrs. Tishell, what is it?" I exclaimed.

"It's my neck!" She bent in pain. "God! My neck!"

I rang up Martin and in a flash he arrived. "It's Mrs. Tishell took her collar off and now she says it's like electric shocks running through her hands." He glared at me. "_You_ told her to take the collar off."

"She's had it on for years." Martin shook his head. "The muscles are likely weak. Mrs. Tishell, the torticollis…"

"Just now," Sally said as she sat on the shop floor in an odd posture, her head held to the side. "It's my fingers."

"What about your fingers?" Martin asked.

"Well, I've got some tingling…" Martin took her hand while she nattered on about vitamin B deficiencies and other things.

"What happened? Did you fall?" Martin flexed her fingers while she gasped.

"No, I been careful since I fell in the bath."

"When was that?" he asked.

"Well, it was the MHRA bulletin; I dropped it in the bath and knocked my neck."

"Cough," Martin commanded.

She did and started yelling. "It's my fingers! They're all tingly!"

"I'm afraid, Mrs. Tishell, that it was a very bad knock." Martin scooted behind her and took her head in his large hands. "I'm going to hold your head very steady. You keep perfectly still Mrs. Tishell; let me do all the work. How's that?" he asked when he'd straightened her up.

"Ahh, that's better." He eyes brightened almost like she was having a religious experience.

"I think you've prolapsed a disc. You know what that means."

"I think so." Sally said and I could she was trying to nod.

"The weight of your head is pressing down on a nerve in your spinal cord. There might be partial paralysis." Our good GP went on.

"Oh, my God," I muttered hearing that.

"Alright, Louisa, telephone for an ambulance, then you help me with Mrs. Tishell. Get the collar, would you?"

Sally brightened. "So Doc, I was right to wear the collar?"

"Yes," sighed Martin, "you were. You likely will need a round of steroidal anti-inflammatories, pain-killers, and physical therapy, if not surgery. Depends on what an x-ray and MRI show."

There was a strange look of triumph on Sally's face as they loaded her into the ambulance strapped to a backboard with her head firmly clamped in a plastic and metal collar. "Don't forget to lock up," she said as the doors closed at her feet. "Bye, Doc. See you? Thanks Louisa."

I latched the door to the pharmacy. "Think she'll be alright?" I asked Martin as we walked away to the Platt.

"She'll have an excuse to wear that collar for the next twenty years. But I think so, yes."

"Right," I said while I was trying to think of a way to prolong our encounter.

He nodded to me. "Right," he echoed.

"Goodnight," I told him and took about three steps then I slammed on the brakes. "Martin!" I took a deep breath for I knew what I had to say. That bloody dream kept bothering me and it must be trying to tell me something.

He stopped and looked at me from eight feet away. "Yes?"

"Martin, there's twenty things about you that are crap." I'd been listing them mentally for quite a while and in no particular order he was: rude, gruff, bad-tempered, stubborn, cruel, brusque, loud, obstinate, unfeeling, uncaring, stand-offish, weird, opinionated, callous, unpleasant, uncommunicative, inflexible, curt, horrible, and grumpy. I don't believe that anyone else in the village would exactly agree with my list but we'd likely agree on the general terms.

"Thank you," he said and took a step nearer me. His answer surprised me.

"But if you were a stick of rock, you'd be Martin Ellingham all the way through." The rock candy sticks were amazing and if you licked them straight thru the words imbedded inside remained the same.

He had a quizzical look on his face so I answered his unspoken question. "It's over; he's gone. Going back to London."

Daylight dawned on him as he said, "I'm missing him already."

"I don't want to talk about _him_." I moved closer to him. "I want to have a drink with _you_."

"I… uhm, I don't drink. Alcohol has an appalling on the liver and central nervous system… not to mention the long-term effects on the cardiovascular system…"

I didn't want a medical lecture so I cut him off. "I _know_ you don't drink. That's _why_ I want to." I'd made up my mind for it was now or never. "Wait here and don't move. _Right?_" I pointed at his face. "Do not move a muscle."

I went into the pub and bought a bottle of red wine and wonder of wonders when I got back outside, Doctor Martin Ellingham was waiting, exactly as I had told him to. I held the bottle by the neck. "Come on then."

He merely inclined his head and came meekly. We walked a few steps and he asked, "Louisa, why did you bring the Salvation Army man to see me; about the photograph?"

I smiled at his face perched on his tall body. "Because."

"Because why?"

"Because you, Doctor Martin Ellingham, notice things that no one else does. You have a fine eye for detail," given I'd just told him he was crap I needed to buck him up in some way. "You have a way of excluding all else if one little things catches your attention. So I figured, you'd be…"

"Able to mentally age-progress a photograph of a fourteen-year-old into a thirty-two-year-old adult."

"Right." We were silent the rest of the way up Rosscarrock Hill.

He ushered me to the front terrace and unlocked the door. "Louisa… I'm not sure…" he held it open for me.

I went in and he closed the door after us. We stood there a moment in the foyer not quite sure what to do next.

"The kitchen?" I prodded.

"Uhm, yes."

He led me to the table, took out two wine goblets and set them on the table. Taking the bottle from my hand he inspected the label, sneered at it, but producing a cork extractor opened the bottle. Hesitantly he poured out two glasses.

"Shall we sit?" I asked.

He nodded and pulling out a chair, helped me push up to the table.

"Thank you Martin."

He sat opposite and there we were.

"This is nice," I said and raising my glass I prodded him to do the same. "A toast?"

Martin sat there silent for a few seconds. "Doesn't make much sense…"

"Here's to signs from on high," I chuckled.

He sneered. "You don't actually believe that do you?"

I smiled and let him wonder.


	19. Chapter 19

Denoumont

The first bottle went down fairly quickly for despite his protests he did drink. Martin matching me swallow for swallow was quite surprising. The wine was good, and I enjoyed sitting there with the GP of Portwenn. I tried to engage him in conversation but it was difficult. "What do you think Mark will do?"

He wrinkled his nose at me. "I've no idea."

"Other than what Mr. Orchard told us, I really thought Julie Mitchell…"

"Emma Louis," Martin interrupted.

"Ahmm, right, Emma then, clearly cared for Mark. When she heard that Mylow was bitten by that snake, she eventually seemed quite concerned."

"Really. I suppose living under the radar as she was she'd be good at it."

"Acting, you mean." I wagged my empty glass. "Do you have any more?"

Martin sneered. "Should you?"

I held my glass in his face. "Yes and you too."

"My father, he, uhm, left some."

"I didn't get to meet him or your mum. What're they like?"

Martin practically leaped upright and rummaged under the sink coming back with a bottle. He thumped it down and sat.

"Well?"

He rolled his eyes while he opened the bottle.

I sipped at what he put in my glass. "I like this vintage better than the other."

"Christopher Ellingham would never buy plonk." Martin filled his own glass and drank.

"Good, right?"

He drained the glass and I did the same.

"And your mum?"

He looked away.

"Martin," I reached across the table and touched his hand, making him jump. "What's your mum's name?"

"Margaret," he grunted and didn't look happy naming her.

"Nice name. So… now I know your parents' names and you know mine. Nice."

He closed his eyes and sighed.

I could see he didn't like this at all, so I quaffed my wine. "I didn't think you'd actually drink with me," I said. "But you are; you do drink."

Silently he refilled our glasses and we drank those off. Again he filled them and we drank some more.

"Martin," I burbled at him. "I really like what you've done with the place."

Martin drank more but didn't say a word.

To break the silence I said, "I was talking to Mary in the pub and she was telling me her gran down in Newquay has had the most awful case of shingles."

That was the perfect lead in for a medical lecture. "Not uncommon; the chicken pox virus, varicella, actually lies dormant in the nerves. Until such time that it becomes active, usually later in life after a viral illness," he mumbled for the wine was taking a toll on him. "The virus then causes inflammation of nerves and is quite painful. A surface rash breaks out with blisters that develop…" he stammered. "Break out… later in life after a viral illness." He was repeating himself and all I could do was listen for I'd never heard him repeat himself before. He stopped and looked at my downcast face. "What?"

"I thought… well, I thought the wine would be…"

"Disinhibiting."

"I'd thought we'd talk more." I sighed for I _had_ achieved my goal. I actually was having a drink, several actually, with Martin Ellingham MD MS FRCS.

He wrinkled his nose. "I don't… _really_ talk."

"I _know_ you don't." I looked hard at him. "I don't know, I thought we'd have this great big old talk and I'd get you drunk," I went on before my head could quite catch up with my mouth, "and _seduce you_, maybe _not_…" Did say that? "But I wanted to see you; see the real you."

"I," his head jerked.

"You are underneath the gruff, mono-syllabic, well-meaning, but rude surface, you're gruff, mono-syllabic… and rude." I nearly laughed as I said it.

"What about well-meaning?" he whispered.

"Well, I should be glad cuz I was _right_. You are _exactly_ what it says on the tin - Doc Martin through and through." I poured the last of the second bottle into my glass. "Did you dad leave any more wine?"

On rubbery legs Martin stumbled to the cabinet and brought forth another bottle. In deft movements he pulled the cork.

I watched him, his hands strong and sure on the cork puller. "You see, I think we should just sit right here and drink some more, and carry on, and not saying any of the _stupid_ things that people say when they're drunk," I told him.

"I…" Martin started to say but I stopped him.

"Shh! No talking." I wagged a finger, at him and he complied for a few seconds.

He poured us more wine then slurring told me, "I… should tell you… _why_ I don't drink. Uhm, it's because I just fall asleep… I don't say _anything_… I'm constipated, my Auntie Joan says…"

"I _said_ _no_ talking."

He sneered at me. "It's rubbish anyway - _rubbish_ the things people say."

"Martin?" I shook my head side to side.

He turned his close-cropped head and looked straight at me. "_You're so_ _beautiful_. You're so _very_ _beautiful_, do you know that?" he whispered and both tone and words made me tingle all over.

My eyes popped open and he'd got my full attention. "Okay. If that's what you're gonna say, I _don't_ _mind_ you talking." My ears were ringing and the room wavered but he now had my full attention.

He went on, "_All_ I think about, every day, is just catching a _glimpse of you_," he said softly and wistfully then he leaned across the table and I automatically leaned towards him.

Our lips met and in the back of my mind I thought at least this time both our breath would smell like wine and not bitter hospital coffee.

It was… how can you describe a kiss? Especially a kiss that seems to be just what the doctor ordered.

Our lips parted. "Oh, Louisa." he sighed.

"Shh. Don't spoil it." I put my hand on his lips afraid this was just the wine talking.

"I love you," he said. "I love you."

He did mean it! "Martin! This bloody table's in the way!" I pushed back my chair and went round to his side, but he'd fallen face down on the table.

"Martin!" I pushed against his shoulder, trying to sit him up, but he was totally limp, unless he was lying doggo. "You _have_ to _help_ me a littlebit, Martin!" Push as I might he was a dead weight. It wasn't fair; it really wasn't.

In my befuddled and wine filled state I couldn't leave him like that, so I left the kitchen and clambered upstairs to his bedroom, finding a spare blanket. I hugged the fabric to me in wonder at what he'd just told me and then slithered back down to the kitchen, nearly catching my heel on the way back down the steep stairs.

He hadn't moved when I returned, just lay there with his nose smashed against the table snoring softly. I tucked the blanket across his back and arms and enjoyed the sensation of touching his strong body. I ran my hand through his short hair and kissed his senseless lips. They were nice lips even if they weren't connected to his brain at the moment. Bloody hell, it wasn't fair; it really wasn't. I kissed him again and eased out the kitchen door.

Getting back to my cottage across the village was a bit of a chore to not be seen. I could only imagine the tongue wagging about the head teacher and the GP! I'd managed to shed myself of Danny Steel today and found myself right where I wished to be, but… once again… things got in the way. It had been a hell of a day all around and my bed was calling.

My stealthy effort was wasted for as I was fumbling to put my key in the lock, wishing desperately that Martin had been able to do the same to me, Mrs. Clibb stuck her frowsy head out a window.

"That you Louisa? Late ain't it? You okay down there?" the old bird yelled out.

"Yep, it's me," was all I could say, hanging onto the door frame for dear life as the world took a decided tilt to one side.

"Have a nice day, dearie?" she asked. "I heard Danny Steel was seen taking off like a rocket. Somebody told me that you shot him down; that right?"

Must have been Mrs. Tishell before her neck blew out. "That's right…" I managed to answer, without slurring too much.

"Good," said Mrs. Clibb. "Never liked him sniffing around. You're well rid of that sod."

"Okay, yeah," I said and squinted up at her window. "I'm… I'm…"

"You don't seem too broke up about it," she cackled. "And then you was seen going up to the Doc's place with a bottle this evening."

No secrets in this town. "Ah… maybe?"

She smiled down at me like in some odd Romero and Juliet balcony scene. "I hope you didn't waste the time, Louisa, that's all. Good night luv," she said and closed the window.

Time, time - that word floated about my head after I got into bed. Time; had I made up for lost time, I wondered?

I didn't dream, at least don't think so, but it was with a fair amount of satisfaction that I fell to sleep. "He loves me," I said to the dark ceiling. "He loves me and he called me beautiful."

I pulled my extra pillow to me and hugged it tight. "Martin loves me…"


	20. Chapter 20

Chasm

Next evening I walked up to see Martin and just as I got to his cottage he was coming out his front door.

"If you aren't used to drinking then you wouldn't know about this hangover cure," I donated a tube of seltzer tablets that claimed to add vitamins and fish oil. "I sometimes teach year-six on a Monday morning, and this is about the only thing that makes it possible." I was cheery and he actually seemed glad to see me.

"Thank you," he inspected the bottle critically, likely reading the contents.

"What happened to your head?" I asked for he had a nasty knot on his forehead.

"Ah, uhm, nothing." He touched the spot and I could see him wince. "Did you want to see for some medical advice?"

"No, no. Just the morning after pill."

"What?" his head practically exploded.

"_Joking_. It was just a joke. I just wondered if you wanted to see me, of if there was anything else you wanted to say before you passed out last night." I leaned close and could sense his manly smell.

"I've embarrassed myself," Martin told me.

He'd done far more than that for by the time I got to school, last of course, plus feeling weak and hungover; my teachers were already passing about a mobile camera shot of a sleeping Martin snuggling up with the old gray dog on his kitchen floor.

"Look! Look Louisa! Doc Martin's got a bedmate!" the Arts teacher cackled.

Mr. Sands sniffed looking over her shoulder. "Poor sod, probably the best he could do." Sands said to me, "And I hear Danny Steel is gone."

I nodded and that was a mistake for my head throbbed. "Now I wonder how that happened."

"Danny or Martin? Whach'a mean?"

"Uhm… Martin… look, hadn't you all get busy? The kids will be here in moments!"

"Right," Sands said then hung back while the gaggle left. "I hear Danny Steel has left."

"Yeahhh… he… got a big job in London. So he went off," I told him, and that was the end of the round-about trip with Mr. Steel. "Half-cocked," I muttered.

Sands touched my arm. "And you're alright then?"

"Yes, yes," I relaxed, "I am. There was nothing between us."

"Oh. Ahem… to work then."

"Yeah, better get busy." I heard the chattering of young voices. "Right on schedule."

Sands stood there for a moment. "You know, Louisa, when we were interviewing for the Head Teacher, a job you so ably are filling, it was Doctor Ellingham who argued most forcefully for your candidacy. Practically told us that if we picked either of the other two the school should be closed as it would be soon enough for those two would have ruined it and quickly."

"So you picked me because the other two were horrible?"

Sands drew me aside as kids ran by. "No! Not at all. Martin picked each one of you apart and I expect it wasn't that different from what he'd done to a frog or a cadaver."

"Right. Now I'm a dead body," I humphed.

"Miss Glasson, it was Martin who ran us thru each and every aspect of the job and hands down you got the highest mark."

"Oh. Okay – so I got marked for a hundred."

Sands laughed. "No, you got a seventy-six. The other two got far lower."

"A seventy-six? You gave me a seventy-six? But I thought…"

He held up his hands. "Don't shoot; I surrender. Louisa, _you_ got the job. What's there to worry about? But it was Martin that led the charge. Practically called us blind idiots if we didn't hire you." He smiled then looked up. "Jessie Jessup, you stop running! I'd better…"

I nodded and watched as fireballs flew through my vision. That was interesting; not totally satisfying, but interesting and informative. Martin did tell me I was the most qualified, and to him that was a mark of seventy-six. The man had high standards, but when you're used to slicing them open and rearranging the inside bits then sewing them up so they work, he needed very high standards. The kids trooped past me and I took my throbbing head and queasy stomach to my office.

Sufficiently recovered by the end of the day I went to see Martin for there we things I felt we needed to say to the other. "You didn't embarrass yourself, and I'm really _glad_ that you said what you said. And I just wish that I'd had a chance to say that… I do too… I love you too."

His eyes got sort of big at that expose and he froze.

"What?" I asked for his look was anything but joy.

"Uhm, nothing."

"No, what?"

"Love, it's a…"

"It's a what?"

"It's a difficult word when you think that we don't actually know one another that well."

"Well, Martin we've known each other quite a while now."

"Yes. Strictly speaking for you to say that you love me when you can't possibly know that you do, is, is…"

"Is what?" His words were beginning to sting.

"Ahm, _potentially_ delusional," he said it jerkily, like he was having a fit.

"Oh," my heart sank. Had I imagined it all?

"There are certain well know, erh, disorders…"

"What disorders?" Now I was getting hot and not in a good way.

"Uhm , there's when a person falls in love with someone else and they believe that they love them."

"Pardon?"

"_Declarembou__ Syndrome_, for instance, also known as _erotomania_. More commonly occurs in women, when they fall for an older man… typically of a higher social status…"

"Martin what the hell are you talkin' about?"

He prattled on. "Delusional romantic attachment… often associated with excessive… uh, uh… intrusiveness, into the life of the… object… of the, uhm, irrational infatuation. Stalking if you like."

That's when a fuse blew and I slapped his face.

"Owww!" he yelled as his eyes screwed up in pain and a hand went to his cheek.

I stood there frozen for a few seconds, then turned and went down the hill as fast as my wedge shoes would carry me.

Every fiber of my being was enraged – no, _not_ strong enough of a word – _furious and hopping mad_; worse, _disappointed_ – sorely disappointed.

If he called me back I might have stopped but he didn't.

Stalking? He thought I was stalking him? Wasn't he the one who said that he loved me? He said, "_All_ I think about, _every_ day, is just catching a _glimpse of you_." Was he stalking me? It made my head spin.

Then I had just told him that I loved him and he called me delusional. That word made it all so, so… weird; a word I should add to the list about Martin.

Chippy Miller walked past with his arm in a dirty bandage. "Hi Louiser. Off to see the tosser," he laughed as he went by me, clearly heading to the surgery.

Martin _was_ gruff, mono-syllabic, _and_ rude but when it came to medicine he _was_ _well-meaning_, very. I smiled at Chippy. "He'll take care of you."

The walk home was lonely and if I really was a stalker, I'd be climbing through a window up there and getting right into Martin's bed! Life can be so strange at times. Danny – Martin - the old gray dog… all mixed up in a blender. Just another day in Portwenn, in a tiny corner of Cornwall where I lived.

I had a bit to eat, tried to do some school stuff, but finally gave it up and a read a lurid bodice-ripper until I fell asleep, still mad at Martin. I'm a stalker?

The dream started just like before. The picnic, the ground splitting apart, all the same, but this time, _this_ time, the crack yawned wide and Martin took me in his strong arms and hands and pulled me to safety.

"You okay?" he asked.

"I am. You?" I asked him.

He nodded and peered down into the depths. "Strange. Cornwall isn't known for Earth tremors. Shaking of the Earth - the ancient peoples must have thought the gods were punishing them."

"Thanks, Martin. Thanks for saving me."

"Of course. Good thing we're on the same side of the chasm. Now we're safe; together."

_Danny Steel_ was the chasm; he was the wedge between us! He was the thing that made the Earth shake or wasn't he?

I felt Martin's warm hand across my shoulder and I woke hearing a dog barking. The hand was my own, for I was lying across it and it had gone all prickly. I wiggled it until the feeling came back. The memory of the dream was fading, but I knew the answer.

It wasn't _Danny_ that made the Earth shake for me; it was _Martin_ – Martin _bloody_ Ellingham.

I sighed. Now what in the hell was I going to do about it?

_You'll just have to go with the flow, Louisa,_ came that voice in my head.

But he did say I was beautiful and that he loved you.

_So… do you love him?_

I answered. "Right."

- The End -

**The characters, places and situations of **_**Doc Martin,**_** are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story places no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.**

**Author's note:**

**Thank you for reading my Louisa Glasson POV spanning eight episodes of Season 2. 'On The Edge' the extra episode, has not been touched.**

**I also wish to acknowledge the incredible work of Dominic Minghella and Edana Minghella in writing Doc Martin Season 2.  
**

**See you in Portwenn, perhaps!**

**Rob (robspace54)**


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